


Ineffable

by SuperDuperCheeseLover



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Black Hat Organization (Villainous), Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Business, Businessmen, Character Death, Cults, Death, Depressing, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Frenemies, Friendship, Gore, Helpless, Heroes, Horror, I write when I want, Injury, Love, Love/Hate, Mad Science, Mad Scientist, Meaning, Mentions of Rape, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Minor Sadism, Organization, POV Third Person, Panic Attacks, Plot, Purpose, Robots, Science, Secret Organizations, Slow Romance, Slow To Update, Songs, True Love, Villains, Villains and Heroes, Violence, blueprints, businessman, fright - Freeform, men with hats, minor characters - Freeform, young adult fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:33:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22119451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperDuperCheeseLover/pseuds/SuperDuperCheeseLover
Summary: It’s funny how easy it is to fall into darkness,And how hard it is to raise to greatness.Sometimes the greatest outcome follows the easiest path.Sometimes the light isn’t always worth it.
Relationships: Black Hat (Villainous)/Reader
Comments: 32
Kudos: 147





	1. "He will give if we are given."

**Author's Note:**

> I suck at introductions sometimes. Sorry.  
> What I put in the summary for the chapter will most often than not have nothing to do with the actual chapter. Just make sure to keep an eye on it, something may happen.
> 
> This story . . . well, don't get your hopes up. I write when I feel like it and I will never be consistent. I have the option of updating with a schedule, but having shorter chapters, or having longer chapters but inconsistent updates. I chose the latter. It puts me in a better mood.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy it. Feedback is welcomed. If someone can tell me how to properly use apostrophes, that will be much appreciated.  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone in my own humble home. Nowhere to go. No one to see. Ah, yes, home. That is where I long to be.

Every day, a young woman would walk to a lonely park to sit down at the swing-set and write in her journal. Paragraphs, or a few mere sentences, is what she would write to describe the highlights of her day. Then, back and forth she would rock on the rubber seat, grasping onto the metal chains in hopes of not falling off and landing flat on her face. Swinging higher, and higher into the sky, she felt as if she could touch the white puffiness of the clouds. Every time she rocked, a high-pitched creaking noise would sound out of the rusting metal rubbing together.

Although simple, her mind was at peace when encased around the bland surroundings and nostalgic noises.

The day was gloomy with grey clouds blanketing the sky. It was bound to rain soon. Though, the lady didn’t get out of her seat. She continued to write in her journal about the interesting day she had. She described how she saw some graffiti art of a black hat and a peculiar man mumbling to himself -- repeating the words, “He will give if we are giving. He will give if we are given.” She had no idea what he was talking about, but, her good nature went over to him to see if he was alright. Upon reaching him, she began to describe how his appearance was questionable.

He had brown hair that was unkempt and brown eyes that looked as if he had seen something that he shouldn’t of. She saw a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. She couldn’t understand what the glasses were for, he was swaying side to side with every step he took. Occasionally tripping over his own feet and nearly landing on the cement sidewalk. But, what was truly strange, was that he was wearing a fez hat on the top of his head. 

_ “My face molded into one of confusion,” _ she wrote quickly.  _ “I couldn’t understand why he would wear a fez hat of all things.” _

When she approached him, she noticed how his mumbling stopped and he was looking at her with a silent stare. It made a chill run down her back.

It wasn’t a minute later until she looked away from their little staring contest.

“Are you alright?” she asked with the nicest voice she had. She tried to not sound like there might be a killer in front of her.

“Do y-you serve the m-master?” he replied in a somewhat shaky voice.

“Um, I’m afraid I don’t know who you are referring to,” she answered, still confused as the morning day. 

“You don’t serve the master. Would you like to serve the master?” he asked. His slight stutter went away when he asked her the apparently important question.

“No, thank you. Although I appreciate the offer,” her response was quick. Whatever he is apart of, she wanted no part in.

They continued to stare at each other. Daring one another to blink first. Eventually, she blinked.

“I will give you this,” he spoke. Quickly, he pulled out a pen and a piece of scratch paper. Then he proceeded to write what looked like an address. “Know what honor it is to be given this. Not many know of the master, but I believe you will serve him with great prosperity.”

Before she could reject the little piece of paper, he shoved it at her and then continued on walking. Without a heartbeat, he began to repeat the words he said previously, “He will give if we are giving. He will give if we are given.”

The words he spoke had an eery touch to them. The more she thought about it, the more she worried about the man. Who is “he” and why is this man so attached to him? Was “the master” the one who is making him say that? Is he the cause of that man’s instability?

The young woman stopped writing when she felt a drop of cold water land on her hand, then another one fell onto her booklet. The piece of paper she was writing on absorbed the drop as if it hadn’t had a drink in days. She looked up at the dark clouds and stared. Two more drops of water fell on her face. 

She looked back down and smiled, then she closed her book and tied the two strings together so that it will be kept closed.

She always loved the rain. Not the part where it soaked her clothes and made her freezing cold; but the part where she could feel free and at peace. Whenever it would rain, she would always be able to sleep soundly and without worry. When she was younger, she would run out of the house and start jumping around. Every puddle that was formed wouldn’t be able to hide away from the small child that was herself. The puddle was bound to be splashed all over. 

Getting off the swing carefully, she put her book into her satchel and made her way through the wet park and to her dry home. The park wasn’t too far away from her house; about five minutes or less. But five minutes is enough to get wet and in desperate need of a shower. So, she made her trek forward and towards the safety of her home.

It seemed that every minute the rain was turning into more of a ferocious storm. One that could pick her up and toss her around then send her to a place where she would only have to follow a yellow brick road. But, this isn’t a fantasy. There isn’t a paradise like that in this world. Although, a girl can hope and hope that she may. 

A deep crackle rang out within the air, a flash of light zipped across the sky, and a deep rumble made its way throughout the earth’s crust. 

“One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three-” the crackle faded into nothing after two seconds. The lightning was close, but not near enough to harm her.

No longer thinking much of it, the girl adjusted her bag strap on her shoulder and continued forward.

The rain started to sound like a dropped pebble every time it landed on the hard ground. The air started to change smell with every moment that the rain started to get more monstrous. The air previously smelled like rubber, mildew, and cigarettes; but now it smelled like humid grass. A pleasant smell compared to the factories that littered the air with its unnecessary gunk.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the 24-year-old arrived at the front doorstep of her house.

Her front door was a sunflower-yellow and her house was painted in white with little chips of paint coming off. The lawn was lush with green grass and pink and white posies’. Although the grass became browner and decayed the more it moved towards the sidewalk. The woman had an idea of why it was that way.

There was this neighbor who lived right across from her. She has never met him nor has she ever seen him, but she was just fine with their current circumstances. So long as they pretended each other don’t exist, there will be peace. Although the question of if he even knew she was his neighbor was still in the air.

She never bothered introducing herself to him after the warning from the other neighbor she has.

Grabbing her keys out of her pocket, she fumbled with them until she got the correct one to unlock the door. She fidgeted with the key as she eventually unlocked the door, making a mental note to oil it eventually.

A warm breeze of air blew past her as she stepped in her humble home. The sweet smell of chocolate chip cookies was lingering in the air from her previous baking incident. Triple chocolate, to be exact. A special recipe her grandmother taught her when she was young. 

She took off her little satchel and shed her body of the soaked jacket, gently hanging it on her coat rack. The rack was littered with the organized chaos of purses and jackets. Not that she minded, of course, it was  _ her  _ organized chaos.

A light tapping was bounced across the light beige walls as the female walked across the hardwood floor over to the kitchen. She flipped on a light switch to see the pristine kitchen before her. Normally her windows would guide light into her home, but with the rain and smog so thick, barely any light could seep in. 

Her feet pressed against the cool floor every time she took a step. It felt like fresh snow coated the floor and then melted away, only to leave its frigid coolness behind. When she reached the fridge she grasped her hand around the chill metal handle and explored what was in her fridge.

After several minutes of searching the fridge, she declared that there was nothing but cookies to eat. Which was fine, a little sweet snack never hurt anyone. So, she pulled out a cup from one of her cupboards and took a jug of milk out of the fridge. It was going to expire soon, so she had to drink it up. Then she grabbed the plate of cookies off of the counter and make her way to the dining table.

The lady then began to munch down on the decent-tasting triple chocolate chip cookies. She could never make anything like this without a step-by-step recipe, at least, not this good. The woman could barely make Mac’N’Cheese. 

Just as she finished her second cookie, she remembered the piece of paper that the strange man had given her earlier that day. Licking the cookie-crumbs off her fingers, she reached into her pocket and took out the crumpled up paper. She flattened it and observed it for a moment. The man’s handwriting reminded her of a doctor’s handwriting. Or maybe he just had bad handwriting, who knows? Not all doctors have bad handwriting, it was just what she learned when she was little.

All the note had was an address, date, and time. And by the look of it, this “event” was to begin in a deserted part of town at 10’o’clock sharp that night.

The gal considered it for a brief moment and thought about taking a look-see at what his excitement was all about. In the end, she decided not to go. The man was crazy and that didn’t sit very well in her stomach. The gathering was bound to be as unsettling as the crazed man.

Thinking no more of it, she stopped looking at the words and continued to eat two more cookies with milk.

Although, the disturbance in her stomach didn’t go away. Every time she glanced at the paper, she felt like she was being watched. Now, feeling watched was common in her neighboorhood. She normally knew where the eyes were coming from, although she couldn’t see them. It was whether one of two places: her neighbor two houses down or the grand house in the center of the roundabout. But then again, those were her only neighbors. Every now and then a new person, couple, or family would move in; but less then one week later of entering the neighborhood, they would disappear or move out. She didn’t understand why this happened. Sometimes they would go away before she could welcome them into their deserted neighborhood.

The woman didn’t know too much about her neighbor in the center, but she was well accustomed to her neighbor two houses down.

A kind, wise, old man who is somehow still alive. The man and herself have both discussed that they are clueless about how he is still standing. Though the topic of his death is morbid, they have a good laugh at it, as if it’s the funniest thing that has happened in a long time. Yes; she figured out early on that her neighbor, Richard, was a bit different than a normal neighbor. He was a bit off his rockers if catch her drift. But seeing as they are both lonely and don’t have many people to talk to often, they make good company.

Looking back to the piece of paper, she flipped it over in hopes that the pair of eyes would go away. But they didn’t.

_ ‘It’s just going to be one of those days,’ _ she decided in her thoughts.

She was eventually finished with the last two cookies she limited herself too. Then, she drank down the rest of the milk and proceeded to put everything where it was originally.

With the eyes still burning holes into the back of her head, she grabbed the paper, balled it up, and threw it away. She was sick of the staring; you’d think the watcher would eventually get bored.

Surprisingly, the sixth-sense of being watched went away, and with a relieved smile, she gracefully walked to her living room after turning off the kitchen light. It wasn’t much: a worn-down grey couch, a rug that was overdue of a much-needed washing, and a scuffed-up coffee table that had an old radio and some books on top of it. The room had a window on all the walls that were exposed to the outdoors. What could she say? The girl loved natural light. But what was different from most normal homes, was that she didn’t have a television. She did, but she couldn’t get it to work for the life of her. She called several repairmen to fix it, but no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t get it to work. It would only ever show static, and static isn’t interesting to watch. So, she gave up on the TV and sold it. Another thing that she didn’t have that was a must-have for society, was a phone. A cellphone, that is. She had a wall phone that was located in the kitchen, but that was it. She did have a cellphone once, but it was just a repeat of what happened to the TV. It was then that she figured out that the current technology of this generation was not compatible with this neighborhood. Specifically the residents of the neighborhood.

Now, most modern, civilized, and cultured people would leave the house and find a new home. A house that wasn’t capable of technology was not fit to be within present-day society. Which is true. The neighborhood should be torn down and used for farmland or something of that sort. But, whoever owns the land refuses to and continues to keep the houses there.

Then the question is raised, why is she still living there? It’s desolate, unappealing, and free of modern technology. Not to mention, you often have the feeling of being watched. No one could ever enjoy living in a place like that. But there are three reasons why she loves the place she lives in. 

Although she isn’t some grumpy grandma, she enjoys the peace and quiet. Every night is silent and undisturbed. The second reason is that she isn’t bombarded with the constant dinging of a phone, along with its negativity within the social media. The area is a good blocker of outside drama. Call it a barrier of sorts. Then, the final reason is that the lady has everything that she needs right where she is. A neighbor to keep her company, a radio to keep her informed, some books to entertain her, and electricity to keep her warm and alive.

That’s all she could ever ask for, the rest is just a want, not a need. 

Of course, she does have a job so that she can pay the mortgage. 

Once she entered the living room, she turned on a grey lamp on top of a side table. The light illuminated its glow throughout the room, bouncing off of walls and leaving corners untouched. She walked over to the coffee table and picked up the novel she was previously reading. Then, she reached over to the radio her father gifted her and raised its antenna. It was raining hard outside, so she wasn’t sure if she would get any service, but she spun the knob anyways. A little to the left and then a little more to the left. She kept spinning the knob until the radio static cleared up mostly and the sound of a man was heard. 

She laid down on her couch near the lamp and opened up the old, thick book. There was the voice of the newsman in the background, giving the latest-and-greatest news. Which was not much. A few mentions of heroes saving the day, villains being defeated, new heroes and villains arising, wars starting on the other side of the globe, and the weather report that was a little too late. Just a normal Friday night. Although, the man did mention that there was going to be a full moon tonight.

_ ‘Oh, boy. A full moon,’ _ she thought sarcastically,  _ ‘Wonder what’s going to happen.’ _

Something exciting always happens on a full moon, and it was almost always not good. It’s especially crazy in this city, for some reason.

Around the time when she had barely finished moving into her home, a full moon appeared. She was out for a walk when she spotted people huddling around something. There was crying, screaming, gasping, and people fainting. It was none other but a corpse of a young boy, seemingly murdered earlier that morning.

Something as gruesome and morbid as that is bound to have a person trembling. Although, (y/n) was not. She looked at the body several times, taking second glances every few seconds. But, it wasn’t because of what she was looking at, but that she wasn’t feeling any extreme emotion. Sure, the blood made her sick and his open eyes caused a shiver to run down her body, but she had no feeling for the boy. No sadness, no pity, no nothing. She only thought about how unfortunate it was for this to happen. Then she continued on with her walk, contemplating why she didn’t feel any sort of remorse.

It was after that experience that she started to feel like she was being watched, and it was also the same day that she got to meet her neighbor two doors down.

After listening to the news for a few more minutes, she started to lose interest. It was just repeating the same old junk that she has already heard about a few days prior. So, she got up from her couch and turned the knob again to find some music. It took a few minutes, but she eventually found a channel playing some old music she didn’t know the title or artist of. Although, it did make for good background noise during her reading time.

A few minutes in and she was starting to feel drowsy. Her eyes drooped and her mouth opened wide for a yawn to come out. She glanced over to the grandmother clock in one of the corners of her living room. The clock showed VI (which meant it was 6 o’clock). The night had just begun, and she was already feeling tired. But, her stubbornness burned and she continued to read her book anyway. She wasn’t going to work tomorrow, so it wouldn’t matter too much how late she stayed up tonight.

She was only three pages when she closed her eyes for a moment, and then she was out like a light. Her book dropped on her chest, left hand on top of the spine, and her right hand slowly fell off of the couch, dangling by the edge. Her mouth was slightly open and head tilted to the side. Their chest slowly rose up and down, up and down with each silent breath.

Chimes rang out throughout the house as the grandmother clock declared that it was now 9 o’clock.

The radio and lamp were still on and the book was dropped to the floor at some point within the three hours that the girl was asleep.

At the last chime, a flash of lightning struck and the sound of thunder rumbled the ground. The lady bolted up in a cold sweat and twisted her head to the clock. She read the time and then looked outside. Black. She sighed knowing it was night-time.

_ ‘I hate those nightmares,’ _ she thought in frustration,  _ ‘Always makes me think I’m late to something.’ _

These night terrors didn’t start when she moved in, they started in high school. She would often wake up thinking that she was late to school or forgot to put on pants and all the children were laughing at her. Now, it was the same thing, but with work.

_ ‘If there was one thing I could wish away, it would be those,’ _ she mentally wished.

Such a childish thing to be having nightmares about. But, she had to deal with it.

Realizing her book was on the ground, she went to reach for it when suddenly the radio was filled with static. She looked at, and then reached over to twist the knob. Before she could even touch it, the music was turned back on. As if a light switch was flipped and the lights came on.

A look of confusion crossed her face. Eventually, she passed it off as the radio being faulty because of its age. So, thinking no more of it, she went back to pick up the book and silently listen to the music. It sounded like a strange song.

_ “Gather round my children, for I have a tale to tell,” _ it began,  _ “Have you heard the lore, of the most evil being, of all.” _

Strange it was indeed, and eerie as well. The woman couldn’t really understand a lot of the lyrics; the old radio could only give so much quality and the storm outside seemed to get louder. But, the song sounded like it was written by a parent who wanted to scare their child into good behavior. Not the woman’s favorite method of parenting, but a quick and efficient one with the side of fear.

The only other things she got from the song was “black hat”, a phone number, “terror”, “hero”, “child”, and “beware”. Not the best words to take out of a song, but the only ones she could catch.

Although she had to admit, it was catchy.

Deciding she should finally go to bed, she laid the book back at its rightful place on the counter, pushed in the antenna of the radio, and turned around to turn off the lamp.

She froze.

“How’d you get there?” she said out loud, not sure how to mentally comprehend what she was seeing, “I thought I threw you away . . .”

There on the side table, laying flat and without a single crease, was the piece of paper the fez-man gave her.

Her eyes widened into one of shock. She was sure of and positive she threw away the paper. She knew that it couldn’t have just come out of the trashcan by itself and lay on the table without her noticing. Not to mention, without a single crease! Isn’t that practically impossible unless you compress it for several hours? How did it get there and in mint condition no less? 

She snatched the piece of cursed paper and crinkled it up, then threw it across the room. Although, it didn’t get very far because it wasn’t dense enough to completely fling across the room. So, since it only went about a foot, she stomped on it for good measure. 

In a sudden moment, she turned off the lamp and begun to make her way upstairs. She wasn’t halfway upstairs before a sudden thought overwhelmed her.

‘Did I just leave a cursed piece of paper on the floor of my living room?’ she thought nervously, ‘And did I stomp on it right before I left to go upstairs?’

As soon as the thought finished processing throughout her mind, she looked back down the stairs into the darkness. She stood there, too scared to go down and to conflicted to go up. Her mind eventually concluded within a few seconds that she had to rush back downstairs to make sure that horrid paper was still there. And then dispose of it properly.

Faster then she thought she has ever gone before, she made her way back down in record time and quickly turned on the living room lamp.

A short and abrupt scream left her lips as she quickly covered her mouth with both of her hands. The scene played out like something straight out of a _ Goosebumps  _ book.

She was gone for a few seconds. A single minute at most, and the crumbled up paper was gone from the floor of the living room within that time. Quickly, she turned around looking in every direction for where the paper may have gone. But she couldn’t find it.

Her heart was going so fast that she was having trouble breathing, her palms were getting clammy, and sweat was rolling down her head. She can’t deal with something like this. The only thing similar to this experience was an event that went down when she first moved here. But even then, it only ended up being a joke played by the news people on the radio.

This couldn’t be a joke that a normal person can play. You can’t simply smooth out a piece of paper and move it without anyone’s acknowledgment. There is no one in the house besides her! 

She was searching the entire house for this paper. She wouldn’t be able to sleep with the thought of a murderous piece of paper wanting to kill her in her sleep. 

Then, unexpectedly, another flash of lightning filled the house with light. The thunder followed pursuit simultaneously, once again, shaking the house and all the ground around it. But, the power short-circuited and the lights of the house flashed off.

She gasped. The house was dead silent besides the heavy winds coming from outside. Normally, (y/n) would be just fine in the dark. She eventually learned that monsters weren’t real and you must have trust in your surroundings. But obviously, the rules have changed a little. A killer paper, dark surroundings, and no power could really edge someone into second-guessing their life lessons.

So, as a last resort, the maiden bumped her way to the nearest wall, hugged themselves, and started to practice their breathing. Their body wanted to hyperventilate to the stressful situation and tears started to slowly poke and prod around their eyes. But, in the midst of her soon-to-be panic attack, a thought came to mind. It was a last-ditch effort and she hated the thought of begging to an inanimate object. 

Slowly, the girl raised her head and then took a deep breath. She refused to open her eyes knowing that she will most likely cry if she opens them even a smidge. 

“Please, if you understand my plea,” she nearly sobbed, but kept her false composure, “I will go to the event. Just please stop this madness.”

She sat on her calves in the darkness for what seemed like forever, but soon enough, the lamplight flickered back on. She stood up and walked (almost like a zombie) over to the lamp. There, in all its uncreased glory, was a piece of paper with writing on it. The same writing she has seen for what has felt like the tenth time. The same paper that has been haunting her for the past five or so minutes.

Without giving a second thought, she snatched the paper from the table with her hand and proceeded to shove it into her pocket. 

If the paper was a demonstration of anything, she didn’t want to go to the location. The place was bound to be a cult of some kind. But, with the fear of what the paper may do, she looked at the clock, grabbed her jacket, and made her way to the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4697 word
> 
> *me going mentally insane because you can't tab your paragraphs*  
> This story is in the third person. I am keeping the POV the same. But, side stories will be written in the second POV most of the time.  
> If there are any errors I should be aware of, let me know.


	2. "Ms. Little Red!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Away from the day of hard work and little praise. Home is a place that sets me free. Little did I know, that I am not alone. There are eyes that will always be watching me.

Taking a deep breath, she grabbed onto the handle of her front door and opened it. It took a little bit more force than necessary, but once it opened, a gust of wind blew at her. Fortunately, she stood her ground. 

Once the wind blew across her face, she got a whiff of the evening air. Normally, after a heavy storm, a lot of the pollution would go away for a few days. The rain would just somehow make it drift away; but that effect doesn’t occur here on Hat Island. The pollution remains no matter how hard it rains. So, the air smelled as terrible as ever and the stars are never to be seen in all its beauty.

Even though it wasn’t raining anymore, the thunder and lightning continued on. Based on her current luck, the chance of getting hit by lightning was high. And she almost wished for it.

The destination wasn’t planned to be too hard to get to. Having very little things to do in her home, she would often go on walks, exploring the island. With more villains on the island then heroes, it made just about every trek exciting to go on. So, the place she was practically forced to go to, wasn’t as far as one may think. After all, she lives in a mostly deserted neighborhood, it makes sense that a deserted town would be nearby.

She took the paper out of her pocket and relocated it to her jacket pocket, keeping a tight grasp on it, afraid it might somehow rip right out of her hand. Then, she grabbed her keychain out from her other pocket and locked the door with the key attached to it. This time, she made sure to lock the deadbolt. Just for extra measures, that is. 

The lamp was kept on inside her living room. It may seem like a waste of power and money, but she decided that tonight, something was off. Sure, a killer paper was wanting to murder her, but something else had her on edge. Peering eyes were back on her frame, feeling more real than ever. Like someone was actually watching her. For real this time. Previously when she felt eyes on her, it was just a mere feeling of a ghost or the feel of a neighbor. One day, (Y/n) asked Richard if he has ever watched her before, and he just explained that the feeling of being watched was normal around here and that she should start getting used to it. 

So she did.

All the stares felt phantom and she knew it was just the normal eeriness of the neighborhood. But this stare, this stare was different. The eyes felt real. Like someone was actually watching her every movement. How was it that this stare scared her more than anything else? Even the paper.

Although little, a single lamp can keep robbers and whatnot away. If there is light in a house, a trespasser is less likely to trespass if they think someone is home. This is what her mother taught her when she was a little girl. She questioned her mother why they kept a light on in the house and that was the answer her mom gave her. Normally she would turn off the lights because she is in a deserted neighborhood, but with tonight’s events kept in mind, the lamp will be staying on throughout the evening. 

The young lady turned around after pocketing her keys to view the surroundings that she would be walking in. It wasn’t going to be a nice walk in the park by the looks of it. Before her was what looked to be fog (but possibly smog). It wasn’t very dense and looked like it had just begun to form; but if she wanted to get to the destination with the least amount of casualties, she would have to make haste. Fog in this particular part of the island was also immensely dense and easy to get lost in. There have been one or two cases where people would go missing overnight, seemingly disappeared without a trace. The fog is a curse some would say, so everyone tries to avoid it.

She stepped down the two stairs and took a quick glance at her flowers. Sure, they got plenty of water from the rain, but who is to say if the rain wasn’t polluted. It most likely was. So, she would have to tend to the flowers soon if she didn’t want them to die.

But that is for another time, right now, she is on a mission.

_ ‘In and out,’ _ she decided,  _ ‘I was never told how long I had to stay there.’ _

Sure, pulling a cheap tactic like that may cause a series of unforeseen events, but she didn’t want to be stuck in that cult long enough to be brainwashed. Being brainwashed is the worst kind of torture. Everything you know can be forgotten and all you are is an empty shell of a human body. They make you do things that you would most likely not do while being sane. Take the  _ Jonestown Massacre _ for example, or even  _ Heaven’s Gate _ . In no circumstances would she willingly allow being brainwashed, not while she is still breathing.

Walking down the stone walkway, she kept her head down, but aware of her surroundings. It’s basic street smarts to living another day. Don’t make eye contact with anyone, but don’t be oblivious to your situation. No one will come to you if they don’t know you’re there.

The woman got to the edge of her property. One more step and she would be on the sidewalk, making her trek to the unknown future. She would be walking briskly on the old, cracked cement that must have been laid down ages ago for a neighborhood that was once alive. But now, the quality has deteriorated and weeds grow out of every crevice. Sure, she could spray weed-killer on her area of the sidewalk, but what would be the point when they will just grow back by next week. 

Taking another deep breath-

(Y/n) hacked and coughed for a moment, putting a hand over her mouth as she tried to be as quiet as possible in the dead neighborhood (she didn’t want to call attention to herself). It wasn’t fog, it was definitely smog. The false hope of it being fog led her to have a coughing fit. How she wished that the air could be somewhat pollution-free for one day. At this rate, she could be dead by the age of 45. 

Deciding that she would be safer with something over her mouth, she pulled a tissue out of her pocket and placed it over her nose and mouth. Not much of a filter, but it helped her breathe better without having to cough every five minutes.

She took a step onto the sidewalk and was greeted with another round of thunder and lightning. Nothing hit her though . . . unfortunately. Though, for the brief moment that the lightning lit up the sky, she could see her surroundings a little better. And as expected, nothing out of the ordinary. 

It was at that moment that the events that led up to this dawned on (Y/n). She was actually doing this, the very thing she decided not to do earlier that day. 

A shiver went down her spine, and not because of the chilly wind flowing by. The eyes were still peering, the paper was still in her hand, and the smog was getting worse. 

Going left, the woman walked a step at a time around the roundabout. Around the roundabout were four light posts. Although, only three worked. Thankfully, the direction she went had all its light posts working fine. 

The quickest way to get to the deserted town was by going through the entrance located behind the weirdly shaped mansion. She had only been there once, but it reminded her of an event that took place when she was younger.

Another shiver went across her arms in remembrance of that day. It was not a pleasant one, but it gave her a good lesson by the end of it.

The young lady tried to keep her mind busy. Being paranoid is easy to obtain and hard to get rid of in this town, or any town now that she thought about it. If she isn’t careful, she could have a panic attack right on the sidewalk, and that could possibly be the end of her life. An easy target to go after is what just about every criminal would think when taking a single glance at her. So easy, in fact, that the pretty face of hers could be put into good use. If you get what she’s saying.

A step at a time and eventually a minute will go by. She was halfway to the back-entrance when her peripheral vision caught something on her right. So, she stopped. Common sense told her to keep moving. If someone was following her, then she would need to get away fast. But, instead, she kept her guard up. She hadn’t heard any footsteps behind her, so there was most likely no one behind her.

But what did she spot? Well, she was trying to figure that out for herself. There, at the front doorstep of her discrete neighbor’s house, stood a tall, thin shadow. (Y/n) turned her head to the direction of the shadow to get a better view. Her side view can only do so much, with it being blurry and all. And besides, it was only a shadow. What harm could a shadow do?

The shadow moved.

It took about five seconds for the lady to process what she just saw.

A shadow moved. On its own. With no body connected to it.

It only took her a fraction of a second to come to realize that the shadow was looking at her and the shadow wasn’t a shadow at all. It was a dark, mysterious figure that was, in fact, her neighbor. 

Her neighbor.

Not Richard, couldn’t be. Rich is a plump, old man who lost a couple of inches in height over the past few years. This figure she was looking at was not plump and was certainly not short. It looked like a stick, but with limbs. Or it may have just been the long-distance visibility range that made it look thinner.

A thought dawned on her again; this is the neighbor she hasn’t seen from the moment she moved in. But even now, she could hardly even see the features of his(?) body. The only indication that this person was looking at her, is that the brightness coming from the streetlight right above her was reflecting off of a piece of glass on his face. It was the only thing she could see. And it appeared to be a spectacle of some sort.

_ ‘He must be old,’  _ she thought.

But, with every lemon that life throws at you, you must use it to make lemonade. So, with good thoughts and a confident composure, all she did was give a friendly wave in hopes that her hermit-of-a-neighbor would come out of his shell and talk with her . . . tomorrow.

Honestly, too much was going on at the moment that she wouldn’t be able to talk to him without having to make an escape to the address that she was now required to go to. It would also be nice to have some tea while sitting in her living room. Preferably with it being broad daylight outside instead of a smoggy, dark evening. That’s just paranoia begging for you to run away from your stranger of a neighbor.

After she waved, the figure continued to stare at her for a few more seconds before disappearing into his house. His very, strangely shaped house. 

(Y/n) continued to stare at the door that her neighbor disappeared into. She couldn’t quite understand why he was so reclused. But, she continued to observe the dark and elegantly designed housedoor. Her eyes could barely make out the shape of it, but from her previous glances at the door during broad daylight, she knew what it looked like for the most part. A dark wood of some kind, pillars holding up a triangle with a hat in the center of it, and double-doors to enter and exit through. 

Her eyes started to look at the rest of the large structure; at a first glance, a person would think it was a strange-looking house with a plane attached to the top left of it. But, taking a closer look, one would realize that a plane crashed into the side of the building and the house was, in fact, shaped like a black tophat. The house had a low window-to-wall ratio and no matter how dark night could get, an individual would never be able to see a light on within the house.

There, under the light post, her hair swayed in the wind and eyes sparkled from the light above her. Nobody would be able to see her facial features from the shadow that cast over her face, but her eyes shined like it was a beautiful day in the neighborhood.

For a single moment, a small, satisfied smile laid itself on her face at the satisfaction of getting the chance to at least make herself apparent to her neighbor from across the street. Now, she knows that he at least knows she-

Realization dawned on her face. A shadow is covering over her skin with nothing but her eyes to be visible. Her neighbor wouldn’t be able to recognize her in the dark, and if he didn’t know about her existence before, he sure as hell didn’t recognize her now.

Back to the drawing board . . . not like she even planned for this to happen. She could care less if her neighbor knew of her existence. They have been living in peace for some time now and that was good enough for her.

Finally done with her thoughts, she continued on to the desired location in hopes to get there on time. 

This walk seems to be taking longer than usual. She’s been paranoid for the past fifteen minutes and her watch says it’s 9:25. Sure, she has plenty of time, but this is taking longer than normal. Perhaps it’s because it’s nighttime and she can’t see too well with next to no light, or maybe it’s because the address that was given to her was not in the area she thought it was.

No. She’s walked past that area before, it has to be near.

The night started to feel a lot more ominous then it was a moment ago, why?

The more (Y/n) walking deeper into the abandoned town, the more scarce light posts became. If she were to ever get jumped by a gang, here would be the place. But, she’s been extra careful with every move she makes. Careful to be as silent as a mouse, as dark as a crow, and as invisible as The Invisible Man. She lurked near the cracked and vandalized street, knowing it was too dangerous to be near the shadows of the alleyways. If she was pulled in between two buildings, or even held down near one, she knew that no matter how hard she thrashed or how loud she screamed . . . no one will come. Who would come to the sound of screaming in an abandoned part of town? Who would even care? Hearing screaming in the middle of the night is normal on this land. As sad as that is.

Then, she thought something she hadn’t thought of before: _ ‘Why did I come here?’  _ The question rested in her mind for a few seconds as she quickened her pace down the sidewalk. 

That’s a ridiculous question! Why would she think that? What brought it up? She is happy where she is right now; there is no reason to move. Besides, she moved here for a purpose and a mission. At this point, she has grown too attached, so there is no reason to move back somewhere that is now foreign

_ ‘Shouldn’t I visit them, though?’  _ her mind asked herself, trying to convince them to at least go back for a moment.

She brought up a good point. To not go back to one's homeland would be like she didn’t care about it, but she did. All those years of happiness couldn’t have been forgotten. The only reason she moved away and refused to visit for so long, is because it’s best to avoid bad memories. The bad memories that occurred a few weeks before she moved away.; before she moved away to a place with the least amount of heroes possible.

But a visit wouldn’t hurt, right? She’s more likely to get hurt here then there. Besides, with everything that’s happening, wouldn’t it be nice to get away from the dangers of this island for a day or two? Just a little break.

So, it was decided: she would go back ho-

Whispering was heard to her left. It sounded gruff and another voice was there trying to hush the other. The voice sounded like it was a boy who hadn’t hit puberty yet, or ever. The guttural voice sounded like they had some years on them. And strangely enough, the vocal, hoarse voice sounded feminine. Perhaps these were low-shot criminals, in a gang that no ones’ heard of. There were many of those in these parts. But even if they were unheard of, there’s only one way to get known about. And (Y/n) may be the first victim of their killing-spree.

She reached over to her back pocket to grab her pepper spray, but it wasn’t there. How could she forget? That’s something she had on her at all times when living on this island. It could decide whether you live or die in these situations. But she didn’t have it.

_ ‘I must’ve been in too much of a hurry,’  _ she realized worriedly.

Using her problem-solving skills, she decided that she should keep on walking at the pace she was at. Hopefully, they wouldn’t notice that she heard them and hopefully they will just go away.

Wishful thinking.

This continued on for another two minutes. She would walk, and about every couple of seconds, they would start to chatter quietly. The woman couldn’t hear their footsteps, so they must be skinny. That, or they have quiet feet.

After the two minutes, they made their presence “known” by taking heavier steps. (Y/n) ) continued to walk, but her guard was up so high that she thought she would lose oxygen from exiting the atmosphere.

She was about ten steps away from a corner, and a corner was all she needed. 

But, then she began to think: would it really be bad to get caught by the two behind her? Given her current situation, perhaps this would be better than the cult she was walking towards. So, she found herself in front of a fork in the road (within her mind, that is). Should she make a break towards the mysterious destination? Or get caught by her pursuers?

Although a cult may get her killed, she will be around people. If she gets beaten, she may start to bleed to death and no one will save her. No one would know where she was.

The moment that she rounded the corner, she sprinted. She was about half a mile away from the location, so she may just make it. But, taking into consideration that she only goes on walks, the air quality is terrible, and the smog is still restraining her vision, she is at the disadvantage. Low-key criminals tend to work harder since their names aren’t known yet, so, these two are bound to be at least a little fit.

Her footsteps are heard rapidly amongst the town, it echoed along the abandoned streets and shimmied off the brick walls with graffiti on it. The breaths she took were cycled through her lungs within a second. Her hands started to clam up and her forehead was getting wetter every time she rubbed her hand wiped off the sweat.

There were two sets of footsteps heard from behind her, running after her.

Then there were three sets, then four sets of feet following her. 

_ ‘Dammit,’  _ she scolded herself,  _ ‘Should’ve known there were more.’ _

Gangs never travel in pairs of two, they are a group and tend to stay together.

“C’mon pretty girl! We ain’t gonna hurt ‘cha!” a man (maybe late twenties?) yelled out from the crowd. This man had a foreign accent. Perhaps he wasn’t a native to this land like herself.

“Yea! Come here, honey . . . We just want to take a little of the top!” A female (maybe 18?) laughed in a way that made her sound insane. She probably is. But, her accent made her sound like this island has been her home for a long time. That explains why she sounds nuts.

But, the young lady didn’t turn around. She knew that when people travel in groups, they are slower than individually. This may be her only advantage. Good not to waste it.

“Ms. Little Red! Slow down, us wolves aren’t going to hurt ya!” Another male, probably the same age as the girl, also had an accent as a native. But, (Y/n) unconsciously slowed down just for a moment to process what the guy had said. 

_ ‘Ms. Little Red? Why on Earth would he call me that?’  _ She thought. No one has called her that in a long time. It seems almost like eons ago. It was a silly childhood nickname that her friends called her whenever they played a game in the woods. When she was out with her friends, she always wore red. It could be red glasses, or maybe a red dress. But she loved the color red, so she always wore it.

_ “Go! Go! You can do it! You’re almost there!” _

_ “Hey, Hey! You’re the last one, admit defeat!” _

_ “Ms. Little Red! Ms. Red! Come on, slow down!” _

_ “Slow down Ms. Red; you’re gonna get hurt!” _

_ “Ms. Little Red! Slow down! There’s a cliff up there!” _

_ “(Y/N)! WATCH OUT!” _

_ Loved.  _ Do not be mistaken. She’s still fine with the color red, she just doesn’t wear it anymore. It doesn’t feel right anymore. Like, she doesn’t deserve it. It brings up too many memories anyways.

A dim light shone about 100 feet in front of her. She picked up her pace. Perhaps it was the building with the event that she was attending? It has to be. Otherwise, she could be dead here in a minute when her stamina runs out.

75 feet. Murmurs were heard from behind her. Perhaps they are considering to back up?

50 feet. The talking went silent as the feet behind her got more rapid and progressively closer.

25 feet. Yells are heard from behind her. Whether it was them trying to make her stop, or to warn her, she doesn’t know.

10 feet. The footsteps that were on her tail, suddenly come to a halt.

She stops running and turns around. There is only a few feet separating her from the door, but she is looking back to see why they stop.

About 15 feet away, there were four individuals who just stood there, looking at her. After a short staring contest, the group started to talk amongst themselves in hushed whispers. A minute passed before anyone said anything, but when they did, the young lady became more frightened than she originally was.

“Hey, c’mon little miss. Just . . . step away from the door,” a new person coaxed her. He was a male. Looked almost identical to the first man that she heard. They were probably twins. “You don’t want to be apart of what's on the other side of that building.”

She was convinced, and it didn’t take much. Everything about this night was a warning, this man was just confirming the danger.

“What is on the other side?” She asked the group. Her body shivered. It got a lot cooler than it was a second ago.

“We don’t know, but you won’t want to know either. We just know to not get too close to that door,” the 18-ish girl explained. She was shaking, but it didn’t look like it was because she was cold.

“Listen, we understan’ that you know what we’d do to you, and we still are,” the first man said, “But we ‘ill make sure not to kill ya. Just, don’t go through the door. You ain’t survivin’ that.”

They admitted to what they’re planning to do, which is stupid, but it sounded a hell of a lot better then the cult.

So she moved towards the group. Slowly, she put her hands in her hoodie pockets. She has nothing to defend herself with, but the hoodie gave her a small sense of comfort.

“OW!” (Y/n) yelped.

She whipped her hand out of her pocket and looked at her right hand. A burn mark was on the tips of her fingers, right where she lightly skimmed the paper.

She looked at her fingers for a moment and looked back up when she heard the group run away. 

“Wait!” she yelled out, but no one gave her a second glance.

_ ‘They left, just like that.’ _

Finally, the sense of reason overwhelmed her. The event that she has practically been forced to go to, was a lot more than it seemed. It had possessed papers, crazy people in fez hats, it scared away gangs, and it was capable of burning you if you retaliated. 

This . . . wasn’t right. But, now, she felt like she wouldn’t be able to escape this. This was her fate and she couldn’t escape it. Soon, she may join madmen and possibly reunite with the lost ones. Soon enough, her story may be over.

(Y/n) turned around and slowly walked to the door. She wasn’t in much of a mood to get this over with then she was before. She knew the outcome, so she was just dragging out her last few minutes. If she would even get that much. The people there probably would see her as an outsider and want to get rid of her immediately. She felt no eyes on her; whoever was watching her, probably didn’t want to follow her to her  indubitable  death. The lady’s shadow felt heavier than it normally did. Although, a shadow weighs nothing, so why is there a drag to it now?

She grasped the rusty, silver handle and looked at the dark wood door. One more breath she will take until her breath is taken away from her.

She inhaled, enjoying the feeling of air rushing into her lungs, then opened the door to her doom.

“Welcome. What is your business here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4515 Words
> 
> Tell me if there are any errors.


	3. "LONG LIVE THE HAT!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel the eyes upon my head. I know I am fine so long as I am not dead. I know those who I love are alive no more, but I hope I can see them all in another world.

She walked into the building before answering. A man wearing a black cloak stood before her. His hood was down and he looked no older than her. The room they stood in was almost pitch black, but his eyes shined a bright green. He was a ginger and freckles littered his face. He looked too innocent to be in this place. In his hands was a candlestick holder with a candle in it. It was a single, lit candle that illuminated the face of every crevice he had. His appearance made him look ominous, but the lisp he had made him seem like less of a threat.

But, laying on the top of his frizzly, redhead hair, was a black bowler hat.

After a few moments of the young lady staring off into space, the man went to clarify an issue; “I’m sorry ma’am, but unless you know how to speakeasy, you can’t enter.”

“I can, but that depends on the place,” she replied, understanding what he was getting at.

“Oh?” he questioned.

“Indeed, but that’s not why I’m here. I apologize in advance if I've got the wrong place, but this is where I believe I’m supposed to go,” the woman spoke.

“Where do you believe you should be?” so now the interrogation has begun.

“Wherever the paper tells me.”

“The paper?”

“The paper.”

“What does it say?”

She took out the paper that burned her and handed it to the guy. He hesitantly took one of his hands off of the holder and took the paper in his hand. Why no one was burned during the pass is a mystery.

His hands were dry and chapped; like he hadn’t put lotion on in his entire life. The nail on his ring finger was painted black.

_ ‘Strange,’  _ she thought to herself.

He hummed and flipped the paper back and forth, examining it at every angle. He then glanced at her hand, noticing the burn mark that was more evident now then it was a minute or so ago.

“Did the paper burn you?” he asked. It sounded more like personal interest than for the right of passage.

“What is it to you?” (Y/n) wasn’t taking it. She just wanted to get in and get out. This dude was in her way.

“Just curious. It’s not every day that a paper burns you,” he commented.

“Paper isn’t supposed to burn you.”

“Normal paper isn’t.”

What did he mean by  _ normal paper _ ? Are there actually types of paper that burn you?

“What do you mean? Isn’t this paper  _ normal _ ?” she inquired.

This paper was anything but normal, she knew that much. But any chance to figure out why this paper wanted her here, she would take. If she could figure that much out, maybe she could stop it from tormenting her.

“It’s not. Normally, the person who invites another individual to join us will come together. In this case, you were given a note. It makes it so that you can come if you want to, or not,” he took a breath, “A person isn’t forced to come . . . unless the note forces them.”

Everything about what he said made sense besides the last part. Why would the note want her to come? Why did this guy sound so calm? Why doesn’t she just turn around and go home now that she is no longer in possession of the paper?

The lady’s face stilled in thought. 

“Uhm, let me clarify: This note wants you to come for some unearthly reason. It’s cursed by some sort of spirit that believes you worthy (or something) to be with us,” he clarified.

“How can I be worthy? I’m just like everyone else!” (Y/n) was not having any of this. She wanted a clear reason why she shouldn’t turn around right now.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he said.

_ ‘That’s it, I’m going home.’ _

(Y/n) turned around and briskly made her way to the entrance, no longer caring what the paper thought. It couldn’t teleport if it’s in the possession of someone's hands . . . probably.

She didn’t make it three steps before a firm hand grabbed her forearm, yanking her back. Her feet stumbled and she fell on the man behind her. He continued to stand tall as her body was bent kind of like an arch against his chest. Her left arm dangled as he held her right arm above her head. The paper he was holding was now in the same hand as the candle.

The young lady looked up at his face and saw he was smiling. When she saw his teeth, she understood why he had a lisp.

His smile was so wide it almost looked unreal. Reminded her of a character from a horror story she read about. But the  _ teeth _ . That’s what threw her off. He didn’t have a normal set of teeth, instead, his teeth were yellow and pointy at the tip. Looked kind of like shark teeth, but if it was filed down by a nail filer. Since it was filed down, his teeth were smaller and looked more disgusting. His gums were obviously hurt in the process because his gums were full of scars, cuts, and scrapes that would open up every time his mouth moved too suddenly. Instead of a normal pinkish color, it was purple, blue, and dark red.

“But, you just got here, and it’s dark outside. Why not stay a little while?” his voice sounded sinister and his breath smelled rotten. This guy doesn’t know what personal space is because he was only two or three inches away from her.

(Y/n) jerked her body in hopes of getting loose, but this caused him to only tighten his grip.

“I think I’ll be fine!” She said, raising her voice.

“I think not,” he concluded as he started to drag her body through the set of double-doors that were behind him. She didn’t see those until now. It had a complex design on it, but not one she was too concerned about right now. She only grabbed a few details and continued with her ongoing struggle.

The woman dug her heels into the polished, wood ground; but it was in vain, for her shoes didn’t have much traction; nor did the ground for that matter.

He dragged her through the doors and towards an elevator that was only a few feet away from the doors they just went through. The building didn’t look like it was meant to have an elevator, and based on how the elevator doors looked, it wasn’t there originally. Honestly, who would put in so much work just to install an elevator?

Her breathing quickened and she took a glance at the man; she knew that she doesn’t have a chance of getting out of his hold. Every moment that he gets closer to the elevator doors, her palms get sweatier and her face more red. She starts breathing more violently, the air around her seemed to thin and liquid beads of sweat formed on her head. 

_ ‘Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. _ **_Calm down._ ** _ ’ _

This wasn’t going to go well; she was going to pass out.

He pressed a button to open the doors. The elevator looked brand new, but the noise made it sound like it was one of the first elevators ever built; and on this island, it probably is. The material was most likely steel, although it was made to look like wood. Similar to the layout of the building so far. 

It gave a  _ squeak, clunk,  _ and  _ thump _ when the doors opened up. Then, he pushed her into the elevator, causing her to fall on her back. He reached in and pushed the only button on the panel and returned his arm back to his side. As the doors were closing with that same creaking noise as they were opening, he said:

“Have fun~”

The doors closed with a  _ thunk _ and she was encased in a small, moving object that was taking her to who knows where. The inside of the elevator looked like any other ordinary elevator interior, but the ceiling had a tophat engraved within the metal. Not to mention, the carpet had stains on it and lingered with a familiar smell. A single light was coming from the corner of the box, it barely lit up the area, but it was enough to see.

Just as the young woman’s breathing was calming down, her heartbeat spiked again.

The  _ smell _ . She smelled it before, but can’t place it. Although, a feeling is itching at her that she should recognize it immediately. Like how if she smelled grandma’s cookies, she would know it was cookies right away. But what was this smell? It gave her a disgusted feeling in her stomach and stirred up memories she would rather for-.

_ Metallic. _

It smelled  _ metallic. _

_ ‘Oh god . . . oh god, oh god, oh god  _ **_please_ ** _!’ _

As soon as the realization crossed over her mind, she shot up from her lying position. Her hand landed on the carpet to push herself up, but instead of a thump, it gave a  _ squish _ . 

She leaned on her elbow and lifted the hand that was on the floor. There, running down her hand, was a sticky red substance sliding down her fingers and collecting in the center of her palm. Her motions went blank as her brain put together the pieces of what this might be. Her eyes darted to where her hand once was and saw her handmark being raised back up to the normal shape the carpet held. She saw the moist red that the carpet soaked up from an obviously recent event that took place in this elevator.

Tears ran out of her eyes before she screamed, and when the first drop of salty water fell off her cheek and landed in silence on the carpet of red, she screamed so loud she couldn’t hear herself. She screamed until she ran out of breath. Then, in a panicked and broken voice, she screamed for help. She only screamed  _ ‘help’ _ once before; she knew she wasn’t supposed to ever ask for help again. She knew that no one would help her, that is, if history really does repeat. 

She took a gasp of air after draining her lungs, then, she passed out.

“Ton . . . gift a . . . voir . . . at!”

_ ‘Who’s mumbling?’ _

“. . . ES!! C . . .!!”

_ ‘What are they saying?’ _

“He wi . . . ining . . . night.”

Voices continued to mumble, whether it be one, or a group. It seemed like a speech was being given, but it’s hard to know what kind of speech when you can barely hear what they are saying. 

“May ou . . . ing us . . . nd may we ser . . . dying breath.”

_ ‘What the hell? Dying breath? What’s going on here?’ _

The young woman could feel something cold on her back. It felt like a rock, and maybe it was. Her nose was free of any metallic smell, but the dust of the room came to replace it. Her skin had goosebumps because of the cold room and rock. 

“. . . sacrifice . . . lease our sav . . .”

_ ‘The elevator. The man. The paper.’ _

“We have . . . one sacrif . . .”

_ ‘One sacrifice?’ _

“L . . . ant.”

_ ‘They’re going to kill me. I’m going to die.’ _

As if a choir had entered the room, about a hundred or so voices sang out a song that she was unfamiliar with. It reminded her of her family going to church on Sundays. They would sing to the heavens in hopes of the angels hearing their voices. She never knew the words, so she just mumbled to the toon in hopes that people would think she’s listening. Maybe her family went to heaven. Maybe she would go there too.

_ How foolish. _

The song eventually turned into a chant that was in perfect sync. Over and over again they would repeat the same phrase. But, with so many voices, she was having trouble deciphering what they were saying.

“. . . LIVE TH . . . T!”

_ ‘What could it be?’ _

“LO . . . LIVE THE . . . AT!”

She tried to tune her ears in hopes of hearing what they were saying. Slowly after regaining consciousness, her hearing and body were coming back. Every few seconds she could feel some of her fingers twitch.

“LONG LIVE THE HAT!”

_ ‘. . . What kind of cult is this?’ _

A hand grabbed her left arm and held half her body in the air. Her eyes snapped open and the crowd went silent for a moment. Then, in hushed voices, they continued their chant.

The group before her was wearing black cloaks with all different types of hats. There were a lot of fez hats, some bowler hats, and the top hat that very few were wearing.

Her head was hanging from her neck; she has yet to regain complete control over her body. Why? Did they drug her or something?

As the quiet chants went on, the man holding her preached, “Brothers, sisters, and the ones of the unexplained! Tonight we have a single sacrifice to please our lord. A mere damsel, that is all. But a damsel who is perfect of all imperfections. A sweet soul that will surely please.”

The man continued on for a few more minutes as the lady tried to move more than just her fingers and eyes.

The room was dark and baleful. It was surrounded by pillars that reminded her of the gothic architecture that she was taught about in history. From what she could see, two tall fire columns stood on either side of her. She was in the center of what appeared to be a cherrywood stage. The room had a Victorian touch, and would be beautiful to look at if she wasn’t being used as a sacrifice . . . and if that hat symbol wasn’t all around the room.

She was laid back down on the stone she was previously on and was now being bound to it with what felt like a rope. At that moment, something inside her snapped and she bolted up into an upright position. If it weren’t for her ankles being bound already, she would've tried to run; but that obviously couldn’t happen. The only thing she could do was struggle and hope the rope comes loose. The hope was crushed once her shoulders were grabbed and she was slammed back onto the rock. Her screams rang out as the people continued to chant vigorously and those biding her finished up and added an extra tug just in case.

_ ‘No one cares.’ _

“SILENCE!” the man called out to the crowd.

_ ‘No one has ever cared.’ _

“The sacrificial ritual will now begin!” The crowd went dead silent in anticipation.

_ ‘I always get into these situations.’ _

“Bring me the knife of the living!”

_ ‘I always try to look on the bright side,’  _ she felt phantom tears stream down her face. She knew they weren’t there, she ran out of tears a little bit ago.

She could now see the man’s face, but she couldn’t have cared less. His eyes told her what was about to happen, and that was all the confirmation she needed.

“He will give if we are giving,” the man breathed out, and almost like an echo, the crowd whispered back, “He will give if we are given.”

**_‘And look at where that got you . . .’_ **

The last thing she saw before she closed her eyes for a final time, was a curved dagger rising above her body. It shone and glistened above her, showing how perfectly sharp and silver it was.

**_‘Dead.’_ **

Swiftly, the knife plunged into her stomach as laughter was heard all around her. There was a pain for only a moment, but soon enough, her body started to become numb. The noises around her soon grew deaf to her ears and her eyelids felt like closing. It was too much effort to keep them open. 

Again and again, the dagger thrust into her stomach, blood filling her abdomen like a bowl of red kool-aid. Ironically, this wouldn’t be the first time someone would be killed by kool-aid. Although, blood and a sweet treat are two different things. 

After the knife went up and down several times, the knife was dragged across her skin towards her heart. The clothes she was wearing were being ripped along the way. 

Once the knife was on the skin over her heart, the man gave the knife a little spin and pushed down. Slowly, the skin tore apart and made way for the foreign object that would all too soon be her demise. Although she couldn’t hear anything, a chuckle made it to her ears as if it was right next to her. She turned her head towards the laugh, but only saw a crowd of people. But, as if under a spotlight, the man she saw early that day was standing in the middle of the people. He wasn’t laughing, and his eyes looked like pure regret. Although, not regret that he would want to get rid of. He was satisfied with the outcome but wished the result wouldn’t be so gruesome. 

(Y/n) looked back up to the ceiling as her mind went blank.

The knife connected with her heart and her eyes rolled back as the color in them dulled. Whether it was mercy or pity, she was thankful that the man ended the show.

_ “Hello! What is your name?” _

_ A little boy who could be no older than eight stood in front of a girl with long hair and bright eyes. He had light freckles dusted over his face and his eyes mirrored the girl before him. _

_ “Why should I tell you? I don’t know you,” the little girl replied. _

_ This boy with brown hair had a sad look cross over his face before he replied in his cheery voice again. _

_ “You do not know me right now because we have not met yet! So, my name is Gabriel. But my friends just call me Gabe,” The boy was trying his hardest to be friends with this girl. She was new to the neighborhood and he wanted to have more friends. He didn’t really have any at the moment, but she didn’t have to know that. _

_ Before the girl replied, she put one of her hands in her red dress pouch, moved her bangs out of her eyes, looked up from the ground and smiled, “My name’s (Y/n). I’m new here.” _

_ Almost every day after school, seven children ranging from 8-11 years of age would go out and play a classic game of ‘Hide and Seek’. It was their favorite game to play, and the ultimate winner would get a prize. Of course, the ultimate winner was the one who could find and catch Ms. Little Red. _

_ Every day, (Y/n) would wear something that was red. Whether it be a headband or a dress, she would always wear red no matter what. Thus, her nickname came to be: Ms. Little Red. The children were reminded of ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ whenever they saw Ms. Red, so that’s why she was named that way. _

_ The one who caught Ms. Red would be the ultimate winner of the week. But, this was no easy feat. (Y/n) was known throughout the neighborhood for being the best at playing this game. Whether she had a really good hiding spot, or she would be able to run so fast that no one could catch her by the time she got to the end of the forest.  _

_ And so, this is where the story begins on how (Y/n) became the person she is today. How her life had led up to her strange death. Why she moved to the island that she shouldn’t be anywhere near. What pushed her into doing things that her little self wouldn’t. How her best friend became her worst enemy. _

_ This is her life. And this is the first time she died. _

#    
  


_ Cold, quiet air escaped the lips of (Y/n) as she hid in the trunk of a dead, hollow tree. The forest reached so high, the sun could barely seep in and warm the ground. It was the beginning of summer, and you would think it would be so hot that an ice-cream cone would melt within five minutes. But, once someone enters the dense forest, it feels cool like mid-autumn. _

_ Footsteps were heard around her, voices taunting her to come out of hiding. But, she continued to stay put in the newest hiding spot she has found. This was a good one. It’s been about 30 minutes and no one has found her. Although, someone could sneak up on her if they used the moss to their advantage. _

_ The voices went silent and the girl knew immediately that something was up. Has someone found her? Did they give up? Knowing that she might have to make a break for it, she got into running position. _

_ “Found you,” a girl's voice whispered from outside the tree. _

_ With a startled screech, the little girl jumped out of her spot in the tree and rushed towards the edge of the forest. If she could make it there, the game would be over and she would win.  _

_ Only a minute passed and she was nearly at her destination. Although, a problem quickly made itself evident.  _

_ Waiting at the exit of the forest stood four children. Three of them were just standing there while one of them was cheering her on: “Go! Go! You can do it! You’re almost there!” Two pairs of footsteps followed her in pursuit. With how her circumstances are looking now, she might actually get caught. She might actually lose. _

_ At least, that’s what they thought. _

_ Taking a sharp left, the little girl redirected her course to another route. She is heading to another place to hide, one she found as of recent. It wasn’t necessarily a good hiding spot, it was just difficult to get to if you didn’t know-how. The spot was also near the edge of the forest, so an easy exit was available. A perfect spot. _

_ The feet behind her gained four more followers. Now, everyone was running after her. _

_ “Hey, Hey! You’re the last one, admit defeat!” _

_ She didn’t slow down, she was nearly there. The spot she was heading to was called  _ ‘Dead Man’s Slope’ _. It was only named that way because people are impatient and try to rush down the hill. If you take it slow, you’d be fine. It was actually a beautiful spot. If you safely made it down the steep slope, you could sit on the edge of the cliff and look out on the forest. Below the cliff was a river that ran downstream towards a dam. It powered some buildings in town. _

_ “Ms. Little Red! Ms. Red! Come on, slow down!” _

_ Just as the words were yelled out, she made it to the start of the slope. It looked a lot steeper then she remembered, but that wouldn’t matter when she started to go down it. Her mind wouldn’t worry about the danger. _

_ She sat her butt on the grass and started to make her way down. Today she would have to be a little more careless if she was going to win. _

**‘You need to win.’**

_ “Slow down Ms. Red; you’re gonna get hurt!” _

_ The voices sounded like they were at the tip of the hill, and she just got here. She would have to be a little quicker. If she gets caught she will lose her winning streak; no one has caught her in two months. _

_ “Ms. Little Red! Slow down! There’s a cliff up there!” _

_ Her mind tuned out the voices as she was nearly at the edge. There, she could just wait them out. None of them were brave enough to climb down the hill all the way to the edge, so they would eventually leave. She could win this. _

_ “(Y/N)! WATCH OUT!” _

_ Her name snapped her out of her trance. She was going too fast and she couldn’t slow down her body. She wouldn’t be able to stop. She was going to fall. _

_ (Y/n) looked at the top of the hill as she quickly went down the slope. She saw six faces looking at her in horror from the top of the hill. Two of them were crying, one of them looked away, one was trying to follow her down the hill, but was being held back by two others. _

_ With a stumble, bump, and jump, her body fell off the cliff. _

_ Air rushed passed her hair and her clothes flapped violently. Tears lifted from her face as fast as they left her eyes. Unknowingly, she was screaming as loud as she could. This was the biggest adrenaline rush in her whole life. And, well, the last adrenaline rush.  _

_ She stared up at the cliff that she was on just a moment ago. It looked harmless even though that is a lie. She was going to die because of that hill, but something inside her told her it was her fault. And she believed it. It was her fault she went that way and it was her fault she went that fast. Her fault.  _

_ Her body turned so that her face was facing the ground. She saw the rushing river, the lushes trees, the glistening rocks. A sight she might as well take in while she can. _

‘An inevitable end. But a gorgeous view.’

_ From a distance, one would see a figure falling from a cliff. They would not hear them cry, but they would hear them scream. One might believe it was suicide if they didn’t know the hill the girl just fell from. But it didn’t matter, for, no one would be able to help them now. _

_ So, the girl closed her eyes as she accepted her death and her body collided with the water. _

_ A mother cries, a father looks away, and six friends hold hands in silence. Their beloved daughter and friend were found floating in a river near a dam. Paramedics believed the child to still be alive, so they drove them to a hospital. But they knew the truth, she was dead. No one can survive a fall from that height, and if the collision with the water didn’t kill her, the injuries did. The doctors were just giving false hope. A sadistic joke for the hospital to get more money. _

_ But, the hope was not false, for, an hour after medical “claimed” her alive, her heartbeat was found. Of course, the hospital wasn’t expecting this, but it was good news nonetheless. _

_ It was another hour afterward and everyone was allowed into her hospital room. The little girl was hooked up to so many devices that you would think she was the latest robot being built. She looked like a vegetable and moved like one too. Her skin was as pale as her sheets and her hair was ratty enough for a bird to live in it. The group could see her blood vessels poking out of her skin as she took a deep, jagged breath after so many seconds. An IV was poking out of her skin feeding her blood.  _

_ But, despite the girl who looked to be dead, the doctor started explaining how this shouldn’t be possible and it was only a miracle on how she is still alive. As if they didn’t already know that. He said that even though they suffered deadly injuries, all her bones would heal just fine. It was the scars that would take time. _

_ Though, a cheap price to pay to keep her life. _

_ The mother, father, and friends cried in relief. Happy to know their beloved friend and a family member was still alive and breathing. It was a miracle that will not go without celebration. Although, after the little one healed up enough. _

_ After the doctor told them all to leave, he left the girl alone.  _

_ The girl opened her eyes and looked up to the ceiling. Her eyes had trouble opening- feeling like they were glued shut. She moved her fingers a little bit, trying to get rid of the stiffness in them. After overhearing what the doctor had said, she began to question the same things.  _

_ How is this possible? How is she alive? Why is she alive? Why is she in a bed instead of a casket? She should be in a casket. A casket made of wood and full of flowers. A casket that would have to stay closed because her body was so mangled that the mortician couldn’t stitch her back together. Her family should be crying in grief, not in relief. But she is alive. She. Is. Alive. _

_ “I shouldn’t be alive.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4865 words


	4. “My Heart Stopped Beating Again.“

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ash and fire surround me, I know I cannot breath. But if I hold what is dear, near, then I might be able to breathe fresh air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Announcements have been cleared-

_  
_

The members of the cult left the building individually, or as small groups. Although everyone went in different directions. They all disappeared into the darkness of the night like a bat flying into a cave. Whether it be towards civilization or the mountains, no one followed anyone. Every living person left the building, and those who were dead were forgotten. 

It was about a quarter after 11 and it wasn’t until midnight that everyone left the building. The cleaning was finished up and the food that was there was eaten or taken home. A new date was set for the next conference and everything brought was packaged up. 

Indeed, a full moon is something to not take lightly. Nothing may happen, but something always happens. People just aren’t aware of it.

The beloved moon glowed from its perch in the cloudless sky. The smog went away for the most part, so the moon brightened the streets ever so slightly. Puddles on the ground glistened from the light of the moon and shadows of buildings littered the ground. Moss ate up the moistness of the evening and rats came out to scavenge for food. They looked through trash cans and searched to see if the previous group of people dropped anything. Some of the furry creatures even took a nip at the moss that was ever so green. 

In an alley near the entrance of the previously active building, a rotting smell was thick and a stocky liquid leaked from the shadows. It slithered out of the alley and out onto the walkway. Slowly, it made its way down the sidewalk, and wherever gravity will take it. A rat patted up to the dark red substance and gave it a taste with its little, pink tongue. In disgust, the rat backed up and hissed, then it started to run towards the nearest garbage bin for some dinner. It didn’t make two feet before freezing in its tracks and falling over dead. The rat’s eyes slowly turned red from lack of oxygen and its pupils rolled back. A moment later, its body caved in on itself like a building would if there ever was a strong enough earthquake.

The previously licked up blood crawled out of the mouth in a small glob and dragged itself towards the puddle it was in previously. It folded over itself multiple times just to get back to where it belongs, making it look like it was doing somersaults up a hill. As if it was given a command and would die if it wasn’t carried out. Or it would never get to play the childish game again.

Once the blood returned to the glob on the ground, the puddle went against gravity and returned to the alley it came from. It could be seen that the liquid was slowly clotting and becoming stiffer, for it was having a more difficult time than before.

After going into the alley and into a crack of a dumpster, it reunited with the flesh it came out of. In the dumpster, there was a girl laying limp on her side surrounded by bones. It looked like she was just thrown in there without a care in the world. It seemed like she was long forgotten at this point. Her innards were on the outside, some intestines lightly wrapped around her abdomen and a pool of blood surrounding her form. Even a blind man could see that this girl was dead. 

At least, for now. 

The blood that pooled around her soaked itself back into the skin like it was a sponge. For a moment, nothing happened after that; but then it started to move around. Intestines were being untwined and pushed back into the body, the closed eyelids looked like something was moving under it, and her dead fingers started to slightly move. Although, not enough for the average human notice. The flesh that was cut open was closing ever so slowly, but even with the mysterious things happening, it was obvious that her body was being fixed. It looked like her skin was being knitted together with blood vessels and bone marrow. And, just like any other stitch, the seams were tucked into her body and out of sight. Like a perfect piece of cloth stitched with only the finest of thread.

Although, with so much damage to the body, extra materials were needed. Her own bone marrow was too much of a necessity at the moment, so the body had to figure out a solution to the problem. What coincidence it was that the young lady just so happened to be thrown into a dumpster full of human bones. Some were recent enough that the bone marrow only started to rot slightly.

Oh, yes. The soon-to-be alive body would be in tiptop shape when healed completely. As if, nothing ever happened.

_ Red roses. _

_ A garden surrounded by red roses.  _

_ Green grass. _

_ A ground covered in green grass. _

_ Blue atmosphere. _

_ A sky with a blue atmosphere. _

_ Little girl. _

_ A little girl in the center of all of it. _

_ The little one was sitting down on her knees in the center of a garden, peeling off petals from a perfect, white rose. The only rose that was white.  _

_ She wore a dress that had flower designs around the end of the clothing. It was as white as the rose and it cut off at her knees while her sleeves stopped at her shoulders. On top of her beautiful hair was a headband with white roses. Everything about her screamed ‘plain’ and ‘Flowergirl’ at the same time.  _

_ Although, this was everything she wanted. A perfect life with no worries. A perfect life that was as peaceful as can be. A life she never saw again after she was ten. _

_ The air was full of the scent of roses and grass. It smelled like mother nature at her finest. The grass was soft at the touch and the rose petals felt velvety. The sky looked smooth and clouds soft. It reminded the girl of her comfy bed at home.  _

Home.

_ This isn’t her home. _

_ The girl pulled at another petal, watching as it ripped from the base of the stem. It gave a satisfying- and quiet- ripping noise. But, the best feeling? It was the feeling of knowing that she was strong enough to rip something so beautiful. Like biting an ear of baby corn in half because it gives a feeling of power.  _

_ After she tore off the petal, a drop of a red liquid fell onto the flower. It was so apparent and out of place on the white flower. Quickly it slid down the petal and into the core of the flower, leaving a red stain in its trace. It came from the sky that looked a lot more threatening than it did a moment ago. Grey clouds covered the sky and thunder rumbled within them. Around her, the rose bushes lit aflame and the grass wilted around her. The rose she held oozed blood that came from its core. She watched as the rose filled with blood like it was a teacup being poured tea. She threw it as soon as the substance touched her skin. _

_ Voices whispered all around her with no pinpoint direction: _

_ “Not yet. Not yet.” _

_ The clouds above cried tears of red. _

_ “No escape. No escape.” _

_ The fire got closer as a figure stepped out of the ash and towards her person. _

_ “No help. No help.” _

_ The feminine figure cupped their hands around the little girl’s face. _

_ “Live on. Live on,” they said. _

_ The little girl cried out, “Why? It hurts!” _

_ They smiled in understanding, “Be brave. Be brave.” _

_ “I’m not sure how much more I can take!” the little one sobbed. _

_ “I know,” the lady stood up and walked back towards the fire. _

_ The girl got up to chase after the woman but ended up tripping, landing on her face. She lifted herself to her knees. Her face was smothered in grass, dirt, and tears. She reached out her hand towards the woman and yelled, “Please, mommy! Don’t leave me! I miss you!” _

_ The mother who was walking away didn’t turn back, instead, she replied with: _

_ “Not time. Not time.” _

She woke up with a pain on, and in her chest. But before she could even get a chance to breathe, she started coughing up blood, choking on it. In a quick motion, she rolled to her side and hacked like a cat; a clot of blood shot out of her throat. Then, she gasped. She fell onto her back and continued to breathe heavily like a fish on land. Only, she could live on land. 

It took a few minutes for her to regain her breath, but when she did, she raised her head just a bit so that she could look at herself. 

She saw her clothes torn straight through the middle and laying on her sides. A red mark lined where the knife cut her and where her injuries once were.

Her head fell back in surrender. Above her was stars she never knew this island had. It almost looked beautiful if she forgot what island she was on. The night was silent and her stomach grumbled in hunger. Which makes sense, all it got to eat was a pool full of blood just a few hours prior. Her mouth was also as dry as a desert and skin as stained as a T-shirt with red kool-aid on it. She closed her bloodshot eyes in hopes of going back to sleep. Whatever the world has to offer her right now, she didn’t want any part of it until morning.

Five or so minutes passed before she groaned in frustration. Sleep wouldn’t grant her bliss for any reason. So, she would have to go back home before unconsciousness would grant her temporary immunity. 

Trying to get it over quickly, she got up and lifted herself out of the empty dumpster, acknowledging the bones she was laying on. The dumpster had a nasty scent to it, but not strong enough for her to cover her nose. Probably smelled because of the bodies that once rotted here from previous events.

Just as she suspected, her insides moved side-to-side in her body. She wasn’t fully recovered yet, just enough to get up and walk around. But the pain was enough for her to gasp and fall on her knees, holding onto her abdomen. It felt like someone put gasoline in her stomach and lit it on fire.

After the pain slowly started to go away, she got up and back on her feet, keeping one arm wrapped around her stomach. The alleyway was rather clean taking into consideration the other alleys on this island. Only a few blood stains on the concrete, which is impressive; there are normally puddles of blood in the city. But, the question raised on how the stains were still there. It just rained, surely the blood would’ve washed away. Unless fresh blood kept going in the same spot repeatedly over the course of time, leaving it stained for life . . . or someone was recently hurt while she was unconscious. The thought of the lauter option made her stomach hurt more and her head went dizzy. No, it’s an abandoned part of the island. Little to no one would be wandering about around here unless something pushed them to do so. 

She dragged herself out of the crevice between the two buildings, making her way back home. Her body felt like there was an absence of something, although she couldn’t quite place it. 

Based on the moon, it was about three or four in the morning. This is good because that means very few people will be up at this time. The exception being the mafia and nightly monsters. But the mafia should have no business with her and she isn’t necessarily the type of feast a savage beast would peculiarly look out for. So, as fate would have it, her travel home might be more peaceful than the experience she had going into this town. 

She practically dragged her body through the streets of the deserted town. Everything hurt so much, and the jabbing pain that poked her every few seconds didn’t help. What made it worse is that it was inside her, so she couldn’t do anything about it. Other than that, it was peaceful. 

As she walked on the concrete- that would turn into gravel every now and then-, she passed a sign with black, white, and red colors. The base was black, the outline was red, and the words were in white. Part of it was in French, so she didn’t care about it too much. But, the big, bolded, white words spelled out: “Now Leaving: Ville de Chapeau”.

Upon arriving at the roundabout, she looked at the dark and mysterious house in the middle. A few hours ago, she saw the silhouette of her neighbor standing right outside his door, looking right at her. She was going to tell Richard about this, but only when she is fully recovered. Not thinking about it, she went the long way around. No matter what pain she was in right now, it’s not worth it trying to cut across the street and use the inner circle to get to her home. Pain or not, she will not risk it. 

At this point, she was dragging her body. The walk ended up taking a lot longer than it originally was. Every step she took, her feet dragged more and more. Blood circulation is scarce because everything is going to her injuries. This is why she would stay asleep as long as possible whenever she was “dead”. The body doesn’t halt the healing processes just because she’s awake. It’s like a cold; sleep helps you get better faster, but you feel terrible when you are up and walking around. Nutrient filled foods also help, like salmon or kale. 

Her mind drifted for a moment, looking at that one light post she stood under hours ago. Only three worked when she was heading out, but now, only one was working. That just so happened to be the one she was under previously. But, her mind wandered for too long, her feet stumbled and she lost her footing, failing to catch herself before she fell. Her face stung from hitting the sidewalk, getting a little taste of the rock below. What stopped her from falling on her chest was her forearms, making her look like she was doing some planks. Thankfully, her hoodie sleeves saved her arms from being scraped. But, the sudden drop didn’t help her chest pains. She gathered some saliva in her mouth and spit it out next to her. Taking note that it wasn’t saliva, but her blood. The fall didn’t help her recovery, but it definitely worsened it.

Footsteps could be heard making their way to her person. Slow and soft. She tilted her head up from looking at the ground and took a half-eyed glance at the being coming towards her. Dirty shoes, green robe, familiar wrinkles, and a nightcap. 

A smile cracked its way up her face. 

The man stopped in front of her and crossed his arms, giving a huff of disapproval, “Young lady, what did you do this time?”

That smile on her face only grew, she was going to be scolded one way or another. It could be now, or it could be later. But she can’t escape it.

“Oh, why do you immediately suspect I was up to no good? I’m innocent! I swear,” she replied in the most dramatic way she could in her situation.

He didn’t budge. His arms continued to be crossed and the frown only grew with every passing second. She soon realized that he wasn’t going to give an answer to her stupid question. So, she tried a different approach. 

“Why are you up at this time, old man? Aren’t folk your age s’posed to be sleeping ‘till noon?” Her chest pricked her towards the end of her statement, making her wince slightly.

He grumbled out a response, giving up on his silent treatment, “Shutting your trap could do you better missy, anyways, I could just leave you here if I wanted too.”

“But you won't, will you?” Her smile fell. She didn’t feel so lighthearted anymore, she felt empty.

Richard's eyes fell slightly in pity. Some of his wrinkles went away when his face relaxed, and the sunspots could be seen better. His green eyes shined a moment from the single light post, and his old-man-hands untwined from his crossed arms. Bending down, he reached out with his stubby fingers and grabbed onto her arms, guiding her back up. 

“I ain’t as young as I used to be, so don’t be expecting me to haul your weight the entire time,” his gruff voice told her as he wrapped one of her arms around his shoulder.

All she did was make a noise of agreement, trying to focus on breathing. It hurt to get up, but then again, it hurt to do everything. Richard has only seen her like this once, and that was around the same time they first met. Although, this was worse than last time. She didn’t actually die last time. The only reason this was hurting more was that healing herself is a pain. The body works on instinct, not on the most efficient timing or with the least amount of pain. Instinct. If it thinks something is wrong, it will fix it. 

The duo made their way around the roundabout with short strides, almost collapsing a couple of times. It was decided by Richard that they were going to his house, and the lady didn’t bother to protest, seeing it to be more trouble than worth. Thinking or protesting would just make the pain worse. 

It took a solid five to ten minutes before they made it relatively close to his house. Her legs gave up halfway through from lack of circulation. That was bound to happen, she felt it coming when her legs got colder and more numb. There was just a tiny bit of hope that said she could make it to the front door. But fate had other plans. So, they had to sit down on the cold and uneven ground, wearily waiting for her to regain some feeling in her legs so they can continue on. 

As they waited- sitting next to each other in the cold and dark night- they looked at the turpitude house before them. The rusty gates looked like they were melted together for how long those doors have been shut. But, nevertheless, a big, black lock dangled from the metal with silver chains wrapped around the two large gates. Strange how the silver looked brand new, but everything else was rusty.

They sat on the other side of the street, directly in front of the barrier that has never been crossed. Although the width of the road was a bit lengthy, it looked like it was shrinking, making it seem like they were getting closer to the entrance. It didn’t help that they felt like their shadows were being pulled into the darkness that the house possessed. If it weren’t connected to them, their souls may have already been gone. 

“I saw something-,” she took a moment to catch her breath. How it was lost so quickly, she wouldn’t know, “It stared at me as I was walking.”

Richard looked at her, his eyes raising slightly in question, “What is  _ it _ ?”

(Y/n) gathered the little bit of saliva in her mouth and swallowed. Her mouth was getting dry, everything that gave her comfort was lacking. It all went to what needed to be healed. 

“I think it was our neighbor.”

“You saw him?”

She took another deep breath, “I believe it was a him. But, it was hard to tell-,” another breath, “I only saw the reflection of a monocle.”

“It was him then. Can’t believe the monster allowed you to glance at him,” he gave a fake chuckle, obviously with some dark meaning in the words he said.

The young lady opened her mouth to ask a question, maybe learn what  _ his  _ name is. And why did Dick call him a monster? Perhaps . . . no. That’s not a thought she will entertain. But how does Richard know what their neighbor looks like? She thought it was a mystery to both of them. Before she could utter any of her questions, Richard shook his head. “Don’t try to look for him, ‘ight? Not worth the trouble. He probably just doesn’t care for your life which is why you’re still here. And you need to keep it that way!” He paused, letting his growing frustration fizzle out. (Y/n) was injured and getting upset couldn’t be good for either of them. So, for the moment, he switched the subject, “Can you feel your legs, or am I gonna have to leave you on the cement?”

She wanted to say something, she wanted to ask questions, she wanted to get answers- but instead, she wiggled her toes and nodded her head, motioning that she could feel her legs for the most part. Once she gave the signal, Richard slowly got up, putting one of his hands on his knee and the other on the ground to support himself.

After a minute or two, he was up from the ground and assisting (Y/n) to get back on her feet.

“Last I heard, your New Year's Resolution was to work out more. How are those core workouts going?” He chuckled, getting a kick out of his joke that wasn’t even funny.

All she did was give a weak glare and grumble something inaudible. 

Back on their feet, they did a take-two on walking to his house, being very careful about not tripping or stumbling. Instead of getting better, the girl was getting worse and the little accidents weren’t helping. 

At long last, the duo made it to the house and as soon as they made it to the living room, (Y/n) collapsed on the sofa. She breathed heavily and took a moment to close her eyes. This was not how she expected her night to go, but at least she was breathing.

Richard sat on his one-person couch and watched as the young lady regained her breath. It wasn’t like his old wooden rocking chair on his small porch, but it still held memories. He would tell stories about him and that chair. He would talk about his wife and children. He would explain the life he had before he moved onto the island. Every time he told a story, his eyes would gloss over and his mind would be so in-depth to the story that he wouldn’t be aware of what was happening around him. On that chair, he would slightly rock himself back and forth to give him the memory of his past. Unfortunately, the chair is so stiff that it doesn’t rock anymore, so it isn’t like he remembered it. He would never let her sit on that chair, and made that apparent the first time he invited her over. Thankfully, she kept true to her word and sat everywhere besides that one chair. 

After a few minutes, she regained her breath and just laid there with her eyes closed. The fabric used for the couch is what you’d see in the 1900s. Uncomfortable and ugly looking. But it was never said that Richard didn’t have a sense of style. His wife is the one who picked out the couch, he was resistant to the idea, but he couldn’t say no to the one he loves. Although the couch wasn’t the most comfortable texture-wise, it was soft. Soft enough to take a nap on. 

Her brain refused to go to sleep because she wanted to get a few more words out before her mind shut down and her body started to heal in overdrive. Just a few more words so she can get something off her chest.

She took a deep breath, keeping her eyes closed. Her head tilted to the man in the chair, signaling to him that she was about to speak.

“My heart stopped beating again,” she whispered. It seemed pointless to raise her voice to be more understandable. After all, they’ve had this conversation before.

He kept quiet for a moment before responding, “Is it back?”

Another pause between the two adults.

“Yeah.”

Richard smiled and got up from his beloved chair. “Then there is nothing to worry about,” he walked over to the couch she was laying on and grabbed the blanket that was draped over it. “Long ago, humanity didn’t even know they had hearts.”

All she did was mumble something, her mind was turning off and her eyelids felt like it was pushing on her eyes. She felt something be laid on top of her and slowly she started to warm up. Slowly, she fell asleep while laying on her back, not a worry in the world. At this house, she was safe. At this house, it felt like home. At this house, it felt like she had a family. 

At this house? Two people with different pasts join together for completely different reasons. But, with the comfort of each other, they get by.

It wasn’t until a couple hours after sunrise did the sleeping beauty wake up. The smell of breakfast lingered in the air as the sun seeped in between the shades. It illuminated the room with a mellow orange that the indoor plants were grateful for. 

The young lady pushed herself up into a sitting position, letting her legs touch the warm carpet that was way outdated. Her arms stretched above her head, giving a quiet pop. The yawn that made its way out of her mouth was almost silent. She blinked her eyes a few times, getting the morning grogginess out of her face.

Once her hearing was more clear, she heard the quiet tune of a radio playing an old song. Something about sunshine and lollipops.

She pushed herself off of the couch and made her way to the kitchen. Just by the smell, the girl was reminded of the food her mother used to cook for her. That woman was the best cook she ever met. Well, until Richard came. Now she has competition. 

Her feet patted on the carpet as she made her way to the kitchen. The carpet turned to tile and it was as cold as ever. 

“It be ‘bout time you woke up,” he grumbled, not even sparing her a glance, training his eyes to the pan in front of him. 

From the looks of it, he was cooking scrambled eggs and bacon within the skillet pan. How he managed to lift the fifteen-pound pan with just his weak Oldman-arms is beyond her. 

He noticed her looking at the pan. “Take note: Cookin’ things with a properly seasoned skillet can give you the best tastin’ food you’ll ever have in your life.”

Listening to his words, she made a mental note on his advice. Then she nodded her head to show she was keeping it in mind. It’s not common he gives advice on how he cooks, he likes to keep his cooking methods a secret. Thus why she doesn’t see him cook often, but he always offers food he cooked. It was like magic.

She walked over to one of the cabinets and took out two plates, one for each of them. Then she got two cups and two sets of silverware. 

When she put the plates next to the stove, he started to dump the food on the plates. Then, he put two pancakes on top of everything. 

_ ‘Where did those come from?’  _ She thought.

After the plates were loaded, she brought them over to the table and placed them in their normal places.

Finally, the two of them sat down at their designated seat across from each other with their desired drink. Not a moment later, they dug into the food. 

“Thank you, Richard,” she said with a smile on her face.

“You sure you have to go? I’m sure you can call in sick,” he asked.

She made her way out the door and onto the sidewalk. “Although I can, that’s not how bills are going to be paid.”

Work didn’t start for another five or so hours, but she was running on about three hours of sleep so she desperately needed a nap.

“Can’t say I can relate. I’m retired and have enough money to last me till I croak,” he huffed, sounding almost like he wished it wasn’t true. 

“Yeah, well, have a good rest of your day Rich,” she waved, walking onto the sidewalk.

All he did was grumble and go back inside, closing his door. She heard him lock it from the inside but didn’t take offense since it's normal to do that. 

At a consistent pace, she made her way back home. It’d take only two or so minutes depending on how quickly she walks; but what’s the rush? With everything that has happened in the last 24 hours, one would think that it would be reasonable to take a day off. But, this is just her life. Sure, her heart doesn’t stop beating all the time, but the strange and abnormal happen almost every day. It’s enough to give an outsider a heart attack. 

She only took a few glances at the house in the middle, noticing how out of place it looked in broad daylight. But she didn’t give any other thought besides that. Her mind was mainly focused on the beautiful day that it was. So very rare for this cursed island. It may have been the most beautiful day she has ever seen since she came onto this island. Too bad that house is always making the mood more gloomy and upsetting. 

Then, her mind turned to a new subject, one that was very appealing. Quickly, her mind was set on one thing and one thing only:

Sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5049 words
> 
> Ya! New record!
> 
> The moment y’all have been waiting for comes in the next chapter . . . Oh yeah, characters start to come in. >:)
> 
> Edit: yooooo! I have a new idea for the summary!


	5. "What just happened?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atlas, I open my eyes and there I see, my family is not with me. Instead, there is a creature ahead in red, he is smiling at me.

It was just out there, standing perfectly straight and unmoving for five minutes now. Two minutes ago a weird spider-robot came from the side of the house and in front of the other thing. The robot laid down and curled up into a ball that reminded the girl of a shell from a snail. Since then, they both had been standing there without making a single movement. What were they waiting for? What was going on? And was that her neighbor?

Not thirty minutes ago the girl woke up from her nap feeling groggy and somewhat refreshed. She got ready for work by throwing on some jeans, a comfortable shirt, and tennis shoes. Makeup wasn’t necessary since she wasn’t going to some top-notch job that required a dress code. All she had to do was get something to eat and then make her way to work. At least, that _was_ the plan.

Now, she is in her living room peeking out the corner of her window and staring at the two things in front of the large gates. Two very strange things. 

She wasn’t sure what the robot was, but she was almost positive that the one standing straight was her neighbor. What led her on was the glint that came from the monocle it was wearing; although, the rest of its face was concealed. The black hat it had on cast a shadow over its face. All she could see of its face was a small frown. Although, that is very difficult to see, for this thing didn’t seem to have lips (from what she could see from her home that is.) It also was tall, somewhere close to six feet. Probably taller if she got closer (she wouldn’t). But the rest of its features were hard to make out. All it was wearing was black and red from what she could see. 

So she just looked at it from the corner of her window, laying on her knees and a hand on the window seal trim. It was a tight fit behind the couch, but this was far too interesting to let it bother her.

Then something changed.

She caught movement at the corner of her eyes, and just as she looked, she saw a petite, white blur move quickly and with great difficulty down the walkway of the house. It looked almost like the thing was in a hurry, like that rabbit from _Alice in Wonderland_. But, as soon as she looked away from the dark figure, she felt a pair of eyes on her. And it didn’t feel good at all. 

Dinging sounded out in her home as the grandmother clock went off, telling her she had one hour to get to work or else she would be late. Her eyes moved to the clock, and right when she did, she felt another set of eyes look at her. She was attracting too much attention to herself, and it wasn’t because of the clock, but because of her staring. People can always feel when someone else is watching them, so they felt that she was doing such to the three outside. Now, the tables have been turned. A sense of uneasiness washed over her as the situation grew in danger. She didn’t know who or what was in danger, but she didn’t like the odds at the moment. Knowing that time is continuing to tick, she took a deep breath and got up to grab her stuff. She needed to leave for work, and nothing was going to stop her. Maybe if she approached the situation in a calm and composed manner, nothing would happen. 

She got up from her crouched position behind her couch and went to the coat rack that held her jacket and purse. After grabbing both of the items, she went to grab a cookie that was leftover from last night.

It took a bit of a scavenger hunt to find the cookie, for she forgot where she put them. When she found them, she took one and put the others back. Then she grabbed her keys from the basket on her dining room table and went over to the front door. Her jacket and purse were already on, and she held her keys in her hand; she was about to use it to lock the house.

The knob to the door felt cold and goosebumps appeared all over her body. A sense of uneasiness washed over her with a sudden regret for what she’s about to do. But as long as it’s not a repeat of what happened last night, she’ll be fine. Hopefully.

Out of the blue, she remembered how she didn’t have pepper spray in her purse last night, so she felt around to make sure some were in there. Unfortunately, there was some; meaning there was nothing to delay her from going outside. 

She took a deep breath and opened the door.

No wind blew in her face, the outside looked as if a big storm hadn’t occurred at all. But, with there being no wind, the already cool afternoon felt slightly warmer. There was always a bit of a chill on this island, that’s just the kind of climate it’s in. 

Immediately, she turned around to lock the door and then turned back around. Her eyes stared intently at the pavement, not wanted to look like she was curious about what was going on across the street. Swiftly, she speed-walked off her property, onto the sidewalk, and towards the route that leads to her work. She could hear the two people talking to each other, but not catching anything they were saying. With her house being right next to one of the exits of this roundabout, it made her be directly in front of the two individuals that stood outside the gate. They were probably only 30-40 feet away from her, making this the closest she’s ever been.

For a moment, she could hear a tiny piece of their conversation:

The first was a male, he seemed timid but attentive. He said, “So what do you want me to do?”

“Keep . . . on her. Any . . . necessary,” the second male voice instructive. His tone held authority and power, but his voice was extremely scratchy. She could only make out a few words. 

With the few things she heard from them, she was at a bit of a loss on exactly what they were talking about. But not wanting to snoop more than she already has, her feet picked up the pace. The eyes lingered on her for a moment longer before they went away completely.

It took about a thirty-minute walk before she reached her destination. Before her was a small gas station with two pumps outside. The building looked unkept and could easily be mistaken for deserted if it weren’t for the flashing sign in front of the property.

As she approached the station, she noticed one car in the parking slots. One, two, or no cars were common for this place. The gas station was on the outskirts of the city and no one bothered to go too far away from their comfort zone. The most common customers were crackheads and hobos, rarely would it be someone who has a life. But she shouldn’t say too much, that would make her a hypocrite. She lives in a deserted neighborhood and has the bare minimum for human contact. That sounds like someone who doesn’t have a life. 

She pushed open the double glass doors and looked over to the register. Bethany should be the one who is working at this time. And, with a quick glance, her assumption was correct.

Bethany lifted her brown eyes from the magazine to glance at the new person, only to see (Y/n). Her brows knitted in confusion.

“(Y/n)? What ‘cha doin’ here?” She asked, “I ‘ought you be a hermit?”

The young lady gave a small chuckle, “Naturally I am, but I’ve got work.”

The lady at the register closed her magazine and her tawny-beige face become more confused than before.

“What on Earth are you talkin’ about?” She questioned.

Just as she finished talking, another ring sounded from the door. In came a young man who looked to be not over the age of twenty-five. He had blonde hair, blue eyes, and a pearly white smile. Could be mistaken for a hero, or one of the survivors of the holocaust. 

“Eyyyy! It’s my two favorite ladies!” he chippered.

(Y/n) internally rolled her eyes, then, Bethany and she said, “Jake,” at the same time with no hint of amusement or joy. Jake is a lady killer. And by “lady killer” she means that whoever he hooks up with, ends up getting left with a broken heart. Just for that, she really did roll her eyes this time.

Just as he was about to say something else, Bethany cut in.

“But really, what’re you talkin’ about? Today’s Tuesday,” when Bethany only received a blank stare, she elaborated. “You’re off today. You work tomorrow.”

Well, that would explain why Jake was here; it’s his shift next.

“Oh, my! I completely forgot! Sorry, a lot happened recently and I lost track of time,” she felt so foolish.

“No worries, ‘stakes happen,” Bethany said.

There was a second when no one was talking. And just when Jake was about to talk again, Bethany started to speak, “But what happened? Nothin’ happens to you. You’re the most ordinary gal I’ve to see on this island!”

“What about-,” Jake began.

(Y/n) cut him off, “Too much to talk about, maybe later.”

Really, she just wanted to avoid those previous events entirely.

“‘ight, well I’m goin’ to make a run to the loaf shop since Jake is here to take over the shift,” she proceeded to fill in her time card and grab her stuff, “Wanna come with?”

“Naturally I would, but I’m going the opposite direction.” She really would like to spend some time with her, but there really was no time too.

Bethany gave a defeated huff, “Well, shucks. Anotha time then.”

The young woman nodded her head in agreement, then both women left through the doors and off into separate directions. They left Jake in the dust as he just stared out the doors.

“What just happened?” He questioned out loud.

Her walk to the grocery store was uneventful until she got closer to the city. The pavement was unkept and it smelled like a sewer. There were occasional needles on the ground, along with mysterious spots on the sidewalk. But, that’s city-life for you. Every alley she crossed was like a gamble and every crosswalk she went across was a scary experience. People she passed by had no consideration about their surroundings and bumped into everyone in their way. Everything about this place was like walking through a graveyard. Brain-dead people, depressing atmosphere, and the smell of death. Of course, not everyone was brain-dead, it was only those who got captured into the evil business of large corporations and desk jobs . . . so basically everyone.

This poor young lady had no place on this island, leaving her with only one friend and a few acquaintances. But even those few rarely talked to her. Although, (Y/n) isn’t all that upset about the blah circumstances. She had friends before, but since that didn’t go well, no point trying again. All she needed was someone to keep her on her feet.

She finely reached a little building in between two taller buildings. There were words that hung above the double-doors that read “Black Market”. This was the main grocery store in the city (as small as it is) and it served people with sometimes expired/ mildewy foods. But, eh, what can a person do? The only reason why she came to the city today, was because she had to make a food errand for Richard. That old man may have some spark left in him, but he doesn’t move as he used too. He would never stand a chance against a mugger. But then again, her chances aren’t all that great either.

There were a few things he needed her to get: A loaf of bread, carton of eggs, pound of flour, flavorless gelatin, a pound of sugar, and corn starch. If she didn’t know any better, she would assume he’s going to experiment with foods again. Oh joy, wonder who’s going to clean that mess up.

Although Rich makes a great company, he acts like a child at times. Once someone starts up his child-like imagination, there is no stopping it. But, it’s not all that bad. Just makes it harder for her to get him to settle down. And now that she thinks about it, she kind of acts like a home care nurse. Never going to tell him that though, he would probably have a hissy fit or be more stubborn than usual. 

After entering the store, she grabbed a handbasket and went on a scavenger hunt for everything on the list. The place was crowded with people (per usual) and smelled like dirty socks (also normal). These are just two of the reasons why she takes the bare minimum amount of trips down to the city. Unsafe and unsanitary. One of the reasons why it’s unsafe is because there is only one police station for the whole city. _For the whole city_. What kind of brainiac only puts one police station in a huge city like Hatsville? Because of that, the chance of being mugged is ⅕ on a good day and ¼ on a bad day. 

In her state of mentally explaining why this city is terrible, she accidentally bumped into someone while going down an aisle. Giving that the collision was unexpected, it threw off her balance causing her to tumble and land on her butt.

The handbasket she was previously holding fell next to her and one of her hands went to her head, feeling dizzy after the tumble. Thankfully, she hadn’t gotten the eggs yet, so nothing splattered.

Starting out a statement should always begin with an apology in the city.

“I’m terribly sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” she apologized, quickly getting up.

She heard a deep chuckle in front of her, “No worries little miss, accidents happen.”

Looking up, the young lady saw a man with red hair and a van dyke beard. He was as white as a piece of paper with flaming orange eyes and a red devil’s advocate suit. Overall: He was overdressed and looked like he didn’t belong.

All she did was nod her head, pick up her- wait, where did her basket go? After a split second of looking around her, she saw the gentleman before her holding the handbasket out in front of her.

“Um, thank you,” she said, quickly grabbing the carrier.

“No problem dear,” he spoke cooly.

They went their own ways and (Y/n) continued to search the store for the remaining items on her list. All that was left was eggs and cornstarch. After acquiring the eggs, she began to have a bit of trouble finding the cornstarch. Which kinda makes sense, because that isn’t as common as an everyday item. But, in her midst of walking across the scuffed-up wood flooring, she managed to somehow bump into the same guy _again_. Only this time, she didn’t fall down. Good thing too because she has eggs in her basket.

Just as she was about to say sorry to this man again, he beat her to it.

“Oh, my apologies for bumping into you miss,” he said to her.

“It’s fine. My fault, really,” she replied quickly. The last thing she wanted was to have someone else blamed for something this silly. Blame it on her, and everything will be fine.

He chuckled again, “I believe it to be a conjoined coincidence,” How does that make sense? “There is no issue.”

They parted once again and she continued her hunt for the cornstarch. And then, after what she believed to be a millennium; the sacred cornstarch was found. After years of traveling through jungles, deserts, and mountains, at last, she has- okay, maybe she was over exaggerating. It just seemed like she swam across the entire ocean with how many waves of people there was.

Once she grabbed a container of cornstarch and put it in her carrier, she began her treacherous journey once again through the sea of people. That is no overstatement. With how many people she thinks is in here, there could be a tornado made of only people. Or maybe a tsunami of only people. Like from that one movie called _The Impossible_. Except, that movie had a regular tsunami. Lame. A human tsunami would be so much-.

_‘You have got to be kidding me.’_

Now rolling in for the third time, (Y/n) has managed to bump into the same person three times in a row! How the hell is that possible? It should be impossible.

_‘Not impossible, just improbable.’_

She mentally told herself to shut up.

Breathing in, she was about to say how sorry she was for bumping into him three times but ended up getting interrupted without her saying anything.

“My, we really should stop bumping into each other like this,” he smiled in a smirky, cocky way. Thinking his amazing statement was completely original. Totally not from a little kids show. 

“Um, yeah. Sorry about that.” She was beginning to feel sick with all this socializing and apologizing. People aren’t her strong suit nowadays.

A moment of silence crept between the two individuals as they both waited in line for the cash register. But that silence was not for long as the devil-lookalike started to talk to her again.

“My name is Pluto, what is yours?” He asked

Huh. She was expecting a more bad-ass name, but he probably didn’t have a choice in the matter. Welp, Pluto it is.

“My name is,” for a brisk moment she thought over her response. She doesn’t just give out her name to anybody. Part of the whole ‘keeping a low profile’ ordeal, “Apate.”

 _Apate_. An ancient name, just as most greek names are. Apate is the name of a Greek goddess who was the personification of deceit. In other words: a deceiver by nature. (Y/n) knows not much about the Greeks, but she does know a few meanings.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful lady,” his flirt flowed off his tongue like water. But with it, a light blush formed on her cheeks, not used to the attention.

Giving out a quick reply, she said, “Thank you, sir.”

She thought that was the end of their conversation, but Pluto had other plans.

“Say, here in a few days I am attending an anniversary. I am allowed a plus one, but their’s nobody I know that I want to invite,” he started his words slowly, explaining his situation. “Perhaps you would like to accompany me?”

For a moment she was a bit baffled at the offer. They have known each other for perhaps five minutes and she was already invited to a party. 

“Although I thank you for the kind offer, I am busy this week,” she explained. But what she said was a complete lie. This week is no different from the previous weeks. All she has planned is work; so long as no brainwashed madman comes and forces her into a sacrifice, her schedule should be clear.

“Nonsense. I’m positive you want to come, you’re just nervous!” He told her.

“Actually-”

“Here,” he put his hand in his pocket and fished out a fancy card, “This is an invite to the gathering. The address, attire standards, time, and date is all on it.”

“I’m sorry, but-”

“Please do consider it,” he pleaded.

She looked into his eyes, searching for any evil intent. Finding nothing, she replied, “I . . . will consider it.”

“Splendid! When-”

“If,” she corrected, quick to interrupt him.

“ _If_ you decided to come, just tell the doorman that you’re the plus one for Mr. Mortem, then hand him your invite,” he smiled wide and joy was all over his face. What a pity it will be when he realizes that she won’t ever be there.

She nodded her head to everything he said, mentally storing it away just in case. And by the time they finished talking, he was done buying his items and she was almost finished with hers.

After paying for the groceries, both of them walked out the door and said goodbye. They were going in opposite directions.

“See you soon, madam!” He said as he walked away.

“Yes . . .” was all she said in response. She knew the guilt was going to kill her when the day arrives, but she’ll just have to push through it.

Quickly she made her way home, needing to get the eggs into the refrigerator in Richards house.

Jake sat behind the register of the gas station while playing on his phone. It was a simple game where you had to get this bird to fly between green pipes, but it caused so much rage that it was almost not worth playing.

The bell on top of the front doors dinged, signaling to the only employee that a customer has walked in. But Jake didn’t pay it any mind. He was far too focused on the little duck-thing that apparently didn’t know how to fly.

It was a few minutes later until he actually looked up from his post. The person who entered was taking their sweet time when most people wouldn’t spend more than five minutes in the smelly building. But when he looked up, he saw the guy was on the other side of the counter, staring at him. Jake didn’t hear the man walk over to him, nor did he know how long he’s been staring.

It was a bit of a shock to find this stranger appear in front of him, so he nearly fell off the stool he was sitting on. Thankfully, he caught himself just in time.

This guy had on a blue hoodie with the hood up. Jake found this strange because it was warm enough outside to not have to wear anything more than a jacket. But along with the hoodie, he was wearing shaded glasses. Jake couldn’t see the man’s eyes, so he was just assuming that the guy was looking at him. Although seeing as the hooded person wasn’t moving, he may be dead.

“May I help you, sir?” Jake asked, trying to hide the slight startle the man gave him.

The hooded figure hummed, “As a matter of fact, you can.”

“Ah,” What else was he supposed to say to that? “Well, with what?”

“I would like you to tell me a little bit about one of your colleagues,” the figure quietly said.

Jake was a bit confused about what the guy said, not expecting to get interrogated.

“I’m sorry, sir, we don’t give out personal information about our employees.” He was hoping that would be enough to get the guy to back off. But he was wrong.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think you understand,” the hooded figure smiled. “The boss wants information. And the information he will get.”

The young man behind the counter let out a huff, frustrated with this guy who thinks he’s the shit. What part of ‘ _don’t give out personal information_ ’ did he not get? If Jake wasn’t allowed to talk about other employees, then he wouldn’t talk about them. Besides, this guy was probably just acting all dark and mysterious to try and scare him.

“Listen, I don’t know your boss, nor do I care about what they want. Rules are rules,” Jake huffed, crossing his arms.

For a moment, the guy was silent. He was frowning like how a little boy would frown after his toy was taken away. But after that little moment was over with, the guy let out a ‘ _hmph_ ’.

“Well,” the hooded figure took one of his hands out of the hood pocket and pulled out a strange gun that was green, blue, and white. “That just won’t due.”

With the weird, futuristic gun pointing at Jake’s head, the guy tried once more.

“Let’s do this again,” there was that smile. “Tell me what information you have on one of your colleagues.”

Jake was slightly shaking, having no idea what kind of contraption was pointed at his head. But whatever it is, can’t be good.

“P-Please don’t kill me.” Truth be told, Jake may act like a hero and a tough-guy, but he’s really the biggest chicken on this planet. Sure, there’s a gun pointing at his head, but it wouldn’t take that much to make him crack. Just slapping a hand on the counter would do the trick.

“Female. Lives on the outskirts of town. What is her name?”

“The only girl who lives out there is (Y/n),” he trembled, griping the stool he was sitting on.

“What is your connection with her?”

“Colleague only. She doesn’t let me get close enough to be friends.”

“Know where she originates from?”

“Based on her accent, not from this island.” The information he has on her is not much. But that part was obvious since their only acquaintances. 

“Any kindred?”

“None that I know of? But I don’t know much about her, so I wouldn’t know. Although she does talk about this Richard guy every now and then,” he spurted.

“Yes, I know Richard,” he commented. “What about friends? Does she have any?”

“She’s a bit of a hermit, so probably not.”

The hooded guy stopped talking and took a step back from the counter, putting away the gun. Jake let out a sigh of relief.

“That’s all,” said the dude as he walked toward the doors. His red converse patting through the doors and off into the distance.

Then, for the second time that day, Jake said, “What just happened?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4355 words
> 
> Sorry, this took forever. The whole "couldn't access a computer" problem. BUT! Now I do. So, yeah.


	6. “In a way, you remind me of my Sunshine.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What came over me? I cannot see! There is too much rubble over me. How am I alive? Why am I not dead? Why can I not die like the rest of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I feel bad, want to catch up, and love you all in a friendly way; here is the longest chapter I have ever written for this fanfic. Although, it isn't the longest I've written ever. The longest I've ever written is still in the making . . . which may or may not be going into a one-shot book whenever I want a break from this. And it may have to do with soulmates.  
> Just putting that out there.
> 
> Reminder: Are you paying attention to the summary? It may be telling a side story.

It’s been six days since (Y/n) was invited to the anniversary and a week since her most recent death. She’s taken a few glances at the party invitation, but nothing too in-depth. All she knew was that the party was happening tonight at 8 o’clock and there was a strict lounge suit attire requirement (whatever that is). But besides the lie she gave Pluto last week, there were more reasons than one for why she isn’t attending this party. First and foremost; she’s not going to attend something that a complete stranger invited her to. She’s not making that mistake again. Secondly; on the top of the white card, there was a black hat with a black circle around it. With what she can recall, while being sacrificed no more than a week ago, there were hats everywhere. Hats on heads, hats on walls, hats on structures. There was even that graffiti art she saw last week of a black top hat. Third; the party was probably too far away. Maybe a house on a hill a few miles out. She owns a bike, but she wouldn’t want to bike to a party in a dress. That would suck. Since she doesn’t own a car, walking is normally her primary way of travel . . . which is why it takes her about thirty minutes to walk to the gas station. About an hour for her other job. Then, last but not least; she just doesn’t have an interest in attending an anniversary that she knows nothing about. Family anniversary? Marriage anniversary? An anniversary for a business? Who knows. Whatever it may be, she will most certainly not fit in.

The young lady was sitting on her couch reading a book. With one hand on the book, and one hand holding the last cookie she possesses. She’s been holding out on eating that cookie because she doesn’t want to make another batch. But, it was already getting to be a paperweight, so she might as well eat it before it gets as hard as a diamond. And she regretted not eating it sooner because it’s hurting her teeth. Sure, milk would do the trick of loosening it up, but she currently had no milk in the house right now.

This book was about a boy who was lied to and wronged. He was so mad that he made it his sole duty to get rid of the flying boy. It was honestly sad. Why someone would do that to someone who’d done nothing wrong.

She looked up from her book and stared at the grandmother clock. The old hands pointed to 5:37 p.m. About two and a half hours until the party started. Wait, why is she counting down to the time? She could care less about this event! Who cares if she’s out of practice with large groups of people? Who cares that she is deprived of new interactions? She doesn’t care. Nobody cares. 

Why does nobody care? 

_ ‘Oh, that’s right,’  _ she reminded herself.  _ ‘Nobody knows about me.’ _

For a few minutes, she just stared at nothing in particular. She wasn’t really thinking about anything, only reflecting. Reflecting on her current life. Here she is, 24 years old. Has her own house. Works two jobs. No romantic relationships. One friend. No family. Probably on the most dangerous island known to man. Invisible to everyone. But that’s what she wanted, right? A life where no one would know her. She’d be indiscernible to the world. 

A tear went down her cheek, slowly coating her skin in a salty liquid. A feeling of rage overcame the woman.

“Why is this bothering me now?” She snarled, “I was fine before, what’s different?”

She got what she wanted. Her plan is working out flawlessly. No one cares about her existence, nor does anyone know of her existence. No one’s out to find her. No one’s wanting her dead; as far as the world knows, she is dead!  _ Everything is fine _ .

_ ‘Then why does it hurt?’ _

What is she doing? She isn’t attending the party, but she’s looking at her dresses as if she’s going. Her selection of dresses isn’t all that extravagant. Most of them were used for things like picnics and dates if she ever went on one. The majority of the dresses she has aren't tight. They’re more comfortable and loose. Sundresses, pouf dresses, blouson dresses. So many different types of dresses, but she hardly wore any of them. There was the same group of clothes she wore every week. But, it’s not like anyone could tell. Her working clothes always stayed the same, but that’s so it follows the dress code.

But, there is this one dress that was the most beautiful of all of them. A dress hand-sewed by her great-grandmother, and what a seamstress she was. Since the dress code says lounge suit attire, then it may mean formal but comfortable? She has no idea. All she knows is that this dress fits it perfectly. Her great-grandmother made this dress in the 1910s, but the dress itself reflected the 1890s. It is an evening dress that is completely monochrome. A white base with black swirls all over the place. The shoulders were puffy and accompanied by elbow-length white gloves. Truly the perfect dress.

She must’ve gone mad. The maiden is not going to this gathering! Doesn’t matter if she wanted to wear makeup, feel like a princess, or dance with someone. This party is irrelevant to her, so she will never attend it.

Okay, so maybe she wanted to try on the dress for just a second. Give it a little test for future reference. That was the plan, she promises. But, maybe it looked so amazing that she will just walk around the house a little bit while in the dress. Twirl once or twice to see how well the dress will spin. And, well, it doesn’t spin too well because the length of the dress from behind is longer than in the front. Which is fine, it’s not like she’s going anywhere in it. The dress is probably too formal for the occasion anyways. 

While in her fantasyland of being a princess, (Y/n) looked out her living room window. The house in the middle looked a lot cleaner than it did that morning. The red windows appeared to be washed, and those gates that were always chained up no longer had a chain wrapped around it. There was a stone path that leads to the front doors, and that even looked like it was power washed or something. Why the house was being cleaned up, she had no idea.

Instead of worrying too much about it, she thought about the idea of pulling her hair up. Just so that she could get the feel of what it would be like to be of worth to a nation. Maybe wear a synthetic black flower on her head to go with the dress.

“So, ya want me to tighten your corset?”

“I can’t do it myself without some intense engineering, so yes, I need help.”

In the mindset of “this is only to entertain me” (Y/n) took off her dress, put on regular clothes, and walked over to Richards’s house. While walking to his house, she carried the elegant dress in her hands. The corset she needed help with was already on, it just needed to be tighter. But, why does she need a corset? Well, she doesn’t. The reason she wants to wear a corset, was because they were all the rage for the longest time. It only makes sense to wear one with a dress that was designed in that time period. Now, corsets aren’t all that common nowadays, but this dress came with the whole package. Gloves, heals, pins, pantyhose, corset, and a bustle. But the bustle makes her look ridiculous (in her opinion) so she wouldn’t wear it. Without the bustle, it made her dress drag a little more, but a small price to pay for not looking like a buffoon.

Richard let out an amused chuckle, “Why on Earth do ya want to wear a corset?”

“I want to feel pretty,” she replied.

The old’s face changed into one of shock. Not too expressive, but enough to show that it was there.

“To feel pretty? Child, you are already beautiful,” he explained.

(Y/n)’s lips curled up into a childish smile, “Thanks, Rich, but I meant princess pretty.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Do you really?”

“No, women are still the craziest mystery on this planet.”

This young lady would’ve gotten the help of a female friend because this is more of a girl thing. But with no one nearby, and Richard being her only friend, this was the only option. Not that she’s uncomfortable, she asks for assistance with a lot of strange things. She’d just hope that one day she would have a lady friend to assist her with such things.

After getting the hourglass corset tight enough, the woman packed up her things and started to make her way toward the door.

“Hold up, missy,” Richard called out from behind. “I don’t get to see why you needed a corset?”

Turning around, (Y/n) didn’t expect him to have much interest in her intentions. Normally he just lets her do her thing.

“Well, I guess you can see,” she decided.

Once she went off into a spare room to change, she put on the gown and zipped up the back. She may not know how to tighten a corset by herself, but she’s had practice with zipping up dresses. In the spare room, there was a body mirror. Looking at herself, she thought about how beautiful she looked. Turning about 90 degrees, she saw how she looked on the side. A lot skinnier than she is, but that’s what a corset does.

Then a thought crossed over her mind: why is this room completely furnished? It had a body mirror, bed, dresser, closet with clothes, and a jewelry stand. The room itself looked like nobody came in here, but not a speck of dust was to be found. Richard never had any other company besides her, and this looked like a lady’s room. His wife never lived here, she passed away years ago. But, maybe this room was meant for her? Keep her memory alive possibly. Whatever the reason may be, she won’t snoop. This is his house. She had no place to judge.

Finally, after a few minutes of preparing, she walked out of the room and downstairs. She only had on the dress, but that was all she brought.

Richard was in his chair reading a newspaper that looked to be outdated; which makes sense, nobody drops of newspaper around here. It would be nice, but beggars can’t be choosers. It’s already rare enough for the postman to come down here. Nobody likes coming down here for some reason.

After noticing the young lady in front of him, the old man put his newspaper down on his side table. Staring at the elegant and pure figure before him, his thin lips turned into a soft smile. Carefully, he got up and grabbed her hands.

“In a way, you remind me of my Sunshine.” His glistening eyes told her everything he was trying to say. His ‘sunshine’ was his wife. (Y/n) had never met the lady, but through the stories he told about her, she was one in a million. Receiving a compliment like that was something she wasn’t expecting. Nor was it something to take lightly to.

Giving a big smile and thankful eyes, she said, “Your words mean more than any man could ever say to me.”

She pitied the man. Sometimes he believes that she is his daughter. Something about the qualities (Y/n) possessed made it seem true at times. Those eyes he gives her is a clear sign that he is looking at her like a father would look at his daughter.

Not letting the moment last too long, she cut the minute short.

“Well, I best be going. Don’t want to miss out on my tea date with the Queen,” she explained.

Richard chuckled, “Of course!” He let go of her hands, “Would you like me to do your hair?’

The woman gaped, “You know how to style hair?”

“My wife was amazing, but some things she just couldn’t do right.”

With a breathy laugh, the girl had surprise written on her face. It wasn’t just for the fact that he could do hair, it was also for the fact that he just smack talked his wife without her even being there.

“Well then, Mr. Professional, let’s see what you got.”

It wasn’t only what he did with her hair, but also what he did to her face. That old, grumpy, sarcastic grandpa managed to coax her into letting him put makeup on her. And she’s not lying when she says that he did a good job. Black mascara, lip gloss, eyeshadow, and some blush. Even though the makeup was basic and simplistic, he managed to enhance it beyond what it was capable of. Then, with the hair ordeal, all he did was pull it back and slightly curl it. She asked where he got all that girly stuff, and he explained that it was his wife’s.

A sense of duty washed over her. This was all his wife’s. He was sharing something that he kept close to him. With this sense of duty, she thought that it was only right for her to put it to use. Because, why make it go to waste?

Once she explained that she had a black flower at home, he agreed to let her go and begin her tea party. So, after collecting all her stuff and bunching up her dress within her hands, she walked off to home. Well, not after thanking and wishing Richard a pleasant evening.

On her way home, she noticed a group of people walking on the sidewalk. They appeared to be wearing some fancy clothes and talking rather obnoxiously. It wasn’t often that people would walk around these parts, but based on their attire and loud words, they were probably drunk. Not paying anymore mind to it, she continued the short journey home.

Once she entered her house, she looked at the grandmother clock. It showed that the time was five minutes to eight. Whatever fantasy world she had built up before, wasn’t there now. Even if she was going to attend the anniversary, she would never be on time or even close to fashionably late. The event was probably at a club in the middle of the city.

She sighed and went up to her room, throwing her casual clothes into the hamper. On her dresser was the black flower. It laid there lifeless and without a purpose. That synthetic etched peony looked so sad.

After a second of looking at it, she went over and grabbed it. She might not be able to attend the party, but that doesn’t mean she can’t make up her own.

Quickly, she grabbed the flower and put it in her hair. Then she pulled up the pantyhose that was on her bed. Finally, she slipped on her white gloves and black heels. Looking into her mirror, she saw a beautiful young woman looking back at her. She continued to look at the girl staring at her for a bit of time, then she smiled wide and giggled. This was the first time she dressed up in ages, and it felt good.

She grabbed a white, see-thru shawl out of her closet and draped it around her back and over her elbows. Then she took a small, black, evening bag off of her holding-rack. After adjusting it to her liking, she stepped out of her bedroom and elegantly walked downstairs towards the living room. That was where her imaginary party was going to take place.

The young lady waved like the Queen of England to inanimate objects, blowing kisses to a wall every now and then. This woman was crazy. But they do say that the craziest people are the happiest.

Once she reached her living room, she saw the invite laying on her center table. Picking it up, she read over it.

And then again.

And then again.

And then once more to confirm what she was seeing.

She lightly rubbed her eyes in disbelief, careful to not mess up the makeup. What she was seeing couldn’t be possible. Out of all the times that she looked at that invite before, how did she not see that until just now?!

_ “Manor #333, Hat Avenue,  _ [ _ Hatsville _ ](https://villainous.fandom.com/wiki/Hatsville) _ , Hat Island” _

_ ‘Huh, I thought we were just outside of Hatsville city limits? Strange. Well, you learn something new- WAIT! No time to dawdle!’ _

She lives on that street! She lives right across from that address! She has been this close to the party all along! Those drunk people weren’t drunk at all, they were just walking to the party.

The girl zoomed over to her window, watching as a line of people formed in front of the dark metal gates. Single individuals, groups of people, and pairs all lined up in front of the house boundaries. But what were they waiting there for?

Just as the thought left her mind, the old grandmother's clock dinged eight times. On the eighth time, that young woman watched in amazement as the gates creaked open, just like from the scene in the movie  _ Charlie and the Chocolate Factory _ .

_ ‘What is his surname?’ _

The question arose on its own, reminding her that she can’t get in if she doesn’t know his last name. She knew his name was Pluto, but anything beyond that was questionable. It started with an “m”, but that was the end of her knowledge.

Morbid? No, what kind of surname is that?

Mormon? Why would his last name be a religion?

More? Not likely.

Morel? Possibly.

Mormet? Close, but there’s something wrong with it.

She tried switching around the letters and ended up producing a name that she liked.

_ Mertom _ . Yes, that had to be his last name. What else could it be?

Everything she needed was on her. She tucked the card into her bag and was now standing in front of her door. The little tea party act was over and the real thing was about to begin. Tonight was going to be the night that she meets her neighbor in person. Well, maybe. With all the people that were on his front doorstep, she’d be surprised if she gets the chance to talk to him. But not being too discouraged, she opened the door and took a deep breath. The deep breath was a tiny breath because the corset restricted her movements. Instant regret washed over her and she wished that corsets never existed. Except it’s too late now, and she is a trooper. No, not a trooper. A woman! And as a woman, she is strong! 

She let out a mental battle cry and elegantly walked through her property, making her way towards the line that was shorter than it was a minute ago. She acted like she knew what she was doing. This was completely normal. She goes to parties all the time!

_ ‘Who hosts a party on a Monday?’ _

That is a good question. Why a Monday? People normally have work on Monday’s. Then again, if this is a business anniversary, then the workers probably got the day off to attend the party. Yeah, that’s reasonable.

As she walked to the back on the line, she noticed that the people in line didn’t really look human. Now, not everyone on this island is human, but a large bunch of them are. These people in line looked exotic, no two alike. Another thing she noticed was that a lot of those exotic people were looking at her as if  _ she  _ was a foreign entity. Strange considering Earth’s population was primarily human.

Finally, she reached the end of the line; the dress and corset adding another 10-15 pounds that she had to drag. Those heels she was wearing didn’t help either. Then, (Y/n) thought about how she’d have to not only wear a corset for the whole night but also stand in heels for a large chunk of the evening. The heels already hurt her feet because of the lack of wearing them, and going a whole night seemed impossible. At last, her actions finally settled down on her, and she wanted to go back to her imaginary tea party where she can sit down the whole time.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans.

“Looks-  _ glurg _ \- like I’m not the only-  _ glop _ \- one who dressed up.”

Without realizing it, she managed to place herself right behind a green, yucky, smelly, glob of slime. How did she not realize that? How did the stench not bother her?

She felt like throwing up so bad that it was surprising how she managed to keep it down. Maybe the corset served a purpose other than beauty.

This slime creature had no eyes or nose (so it couldn’t smell itself) and only a gaping hole where it was speaking from. It looked to be forced into the suit it was wearing; globs of slime seeping through the clothing and dripping onto the ground. The monster was about two heads taller than her.

She coughed to hide her disgust, “Yeah; I didn’t know what lounge suit attire meant, so I just played it safe.”

“Well, you’re not-  _ glug _ \- the only one to play-  _ glurg _ \- it safe. I mean-  _ glop _ -, dress to impress the unimpressible,” he scoffed. It wasn’t directed at her, though.

With an eyebrow raised, she asked, “What do you mean?”

Now it was the blob monster's turn to look(?) confused, “You know,-  _ burp _ \- the host of this anniversary.”

She didn’t prepare enough for this.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, lost my thought for a moment,” she lied. “Forgot how he isn’t easily amused.”

_ ‘Please be true. Please be true. Please be true.’ _

“You can say that again,” said a new voice from behind.

Slightly turning around, (Y/n) saw a lady wearing an extravagant and extremely tight green dress. How the woman managed to get behind her was a mystery.

The alien lady had leafy green skin, red hair, red lipstick, and leaves all over her.

“I wear the hottest and tightest dresses I can get my hands on, and he still barely spares me a glance,” said the frustrated woman.

“Um,” (Y/n) started out. “Who are you?”

That green chick looked like she was just slapped in the face. “Poison Ivy! You must be new.”

“I’ll agree with you Ms.-  _ glurp _ \- Ivy. This young girl seems new,” nodded slime dude.

Those two started chatting with each other about how they both attend this gathering every three years and are still unnoticed. After three minutes of their rambling, the young lady zoned out. Eventually, she made it to the front of the line. 

Once she entered threw the front doors, she took in everything that greeted her. The interior looked so gothic. Which wasn’t much of a surprise if the outside meant anything about what the inside kept away. And believe her, the outside concealed a lot about the inside. The walls had large portraits of someone she couldn’t see the face of. Those paintings were too large and high up for her to get a clear visual of the face. Detailed stone rocks held random objects that she didn’t know of. Black and red seemed to be the only colors her neighbor knew of. And there was a constant theme of hats on the wallpaper. Huh. She’s not a big fan of wallpaper. But with that wallpaper, was wood flooring. Which is strange, she expected a green carpet. If this guy is going to have wallpaper with hardwood flooring, he might as well have gone the whole way and painted the walls. Then again, this guy doesn’t seem to have company all too often unless it meant a big party.

“Invite, please,” a robotic voice asked her.

Turning her head to the noise, she didn’t see anything; then she looked down to see a strange robot. It had a wheel for legs, dressed in a metal tuxedo, no more than two and a half feet, and had a-

_ ‘It’s wearing a bowler hat!’ _

How did she not notice before? There are hats everywhere! Hats on the walls, hats on the doors, hats on the gate, and a hat on the bot! 

. . . When did she get P.T.S.D. over hats? Well, it didn’t take much thought to come to the conclusion that she was killed as a sacrifice to  _ the _ hat. Supposedly it wouldn’t be too much of a coincidence that this guy just so happened to like hats. He had wallpaper with wood floors; maybe the previous owner liked hats, but the new owner never got the chance to change the style . . . or the walls for that matter. 

Whatever. What mattered now was that she handed over the invite and told the robot that she’s a plus one. So that’s what she did. After she announced she was a plus one, Ms. Ivy came to a realization.

“No wonder you don’t know me, you’re only a friend or lover of a member,” she heard Ivy say from behind.

“State who invited you,” the robot voice asked.

“Mr. Merton,” she replied, hoping that was correct. She said it quickly enough that some letters mushed together, so maybe the robot will autocorrect it for her.

“Mr. Pluto Mortem: God of the Underworld - Registered - VIP Membership,” the robot readout like it was reading a script. “Name for the database?”

The words that the robot said were so crazy that it took a second of recovery for the 24-year-old to process everything.

“Apate,” she answered.

“Surname?”

Why does it need a surname? Can’t it just take her fake name and roll with it? She’s not good with thinking on the fly.

“Um, ah, Ju-Je-Jetson! Apate Jetson,” she said in response.

_ Meet George Jetson . . . His boy, Elroy . . .  _ Oh god, she’s doomed. Sure, say Jetson. Oh, and while she’s at it, she might as well say Flintstone too!

Ivy gasped behind her, then she whispered something under her breath. Maybe she was just as shocked as (Y/n) was with the secret identity of Pluto Mortem. God of the Underworld? What kind of circus act is this? Maybe this is all just a big game of  _ Clue _ .

“Have an acceptable time Ms. Jetson.”

Then just like that, (Y/n) followed everyone else further into the house. It was a minute or two before the crowd started to enter through a set of open, wood, double doors (which also had a hat design imprinted on it). She wasn’t sure if that was where she was supposed to go, but with the hallways so dark and that being the only major light source, it was her best bet.

Although, these hallways raised suspicion. More than anything else did. There appeared to be no ceiling lights, only candlesticks that led the way to this room. If this proprietor wanted to make some cash on the side, he should just open his doors during the Halloween season. This lodging was a haunted house in itself. But another thing that was confusing, was that the wood floor didn’t creak. Sure, it looked new; but with the vibes that this house was giving off, no squeaking floorboards are scarier than squeaking floorboards. Why would something so old looking, act so new.

When she entered the room- which was a ballroom- her eyes widened into the size of saucers, mouth gaping open. The room itself looked like it was taken out of a 19th-century gothic painting. Just by the sheer size of it, she could tell that she misinterpreted the number of people that would be attending. There were maybe 100 people in the room currently, but it wasn’t even one-third of the way full. She saw all the people, humans, and monsters spread out on the wood floor. She saw all the far-flung attire that all the attendees wore. She noticed the colors in the ballroom were different from the hallways (gold being the primary color in this room). She saw the ceiling that seemed to never end with a chandelier in the dead center of it all. 

Whoever her neighbor is. He is rich. If he is rich, then a large portion of these people are rich. She is not used to rich people. She is in a foreign land. How did she get here again? Oh, yeah. Hades of the underworld. The only hope she has of surviving this anniversary is finding Pluto. Strange. Her only hope is death. Ironic because death can’t even let her rest.

In total, the ballroom appeared to be roughly 2,100 square feet or something like that. All she knew was that it was big for a ballroom. Of course, she hasn’t been to a ballroom all too much, but it was still pretty big. Big enough to hold about 300-350 people.

Slowly, she entered the large room, trying to make it seem like she wasn’t hauling a few bricks with her. Seriously, that dress and corset was not a good combo. Although she was thankful it wasn’t a ball gown; those could weigh about 75 pounds on average.

As she entered the room, she looked at all the beings in order to find Pluto. If that was to fail, then she’d start walking around the room. But that is the least desirable option.

It was only a minute later that she saw him on the other side of the room, talking to a guy in a royal blue tuxedo. Just as she started to beeline towards him, a familiar voice started to talk to her first. 

“Hey, girl!” Smiled Ivy, “How’s it going?”

Suspicious. Why is she acting all “buddy-buddy” now? Isn’t she revolted that the girl was a plus one? Or maybe it was because of who she’s the plus one too.

“I hate Mr. Glurp, his smell gets me in a soul mood,” she explained as if she read the lady’s mind.

For a second, (Y/n) still wasn’t sold on the act; but wanted to lighten the mood a bit.

“Don’t you mean a  _ foul  _ mood?” She snickered.

It took a moment for the joke to register in Ms. Ivy’s mind, but then she started to laugh as if she was a female rendition of Santa Claus. Although appreciating the attention, the laugh was annoying and sounded phony.

After the laughter came to a rather quick stop, she said, “I didn’t know you could joke!”

“When the timing is right,” was all she said, glancing at Pluto’s direction. The guy he was talking to before walked away and new people came to chat. She noticed how there were even more people in the ballroom than the last time she checked. If it was to continue to fill up at this rate, the room would soon become claustrophobic. 

Another thing she saw was that there were three separate areas in the room that had a large gathering of people. Perhaps some forms of entertainment?

“-and, hey, are you listening?” Ivy waved a green hand in front of the woman’s face.

She shook her head to get back on focus.

“Sorry, I have other things to do,” was all she replied with as she continued her beeline towards the only person she was comfortable with. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be interrupted.

“Hi! What’s your name?”

Out of literal nowhere, a little redhead girl popped in front of her face. With this sudden appearance, two questions arose: How many redheads are here? And, Why is there a little girl here?

This little girl couldn’t be taller than the waist of (Y/n). She had freckles covering her face, a knee-high yellow dress, two hair buns on the side, and a yellow crown with a red jewel in the middle of it.

“Apate.”

“Apate? That’s a lame name. MY name is Princess Morbucks,” the goodie-two-shoes, spoiled, little brat said. Apate is her fake name, so she shouldn’t be upset. But she just seems to have a reoccurring hateful emotion with everyone she meets here. Maybe this is why she avoids people.

“Yeah, okay kid,” was all she replied with, not wanting to make a scene.

Then she walked around the girl and continued towards the only nice guy at this party. That little brat continued to follow her, talking about how she shouldn’t ignore her and her daddy has enough money to make it seem like she never existed. But, that would be hard to do seeing how (Y/n) has already managed to pull that off just fine by herself.

At long last, (Y/n) made it. She was right behind Pluto with the spoiled girl on her dress. Literally  _ on  _ her dress. The dress her great-grandmother made.

The reasonable answer would be to turn around fast enough that the girl would lose her balance and fall down on that freckle-covered face of hers. But instead of doing that, the young lady just softly tapped at the shoulder of Pluto.

He turned around and saw his plus one right behind him. His face lit up like he just saw a diamond, but then quickly turned into a frown once he saw what was behind her. With a snap of his fingers and a point off into a certain direction, Princess Morbucks was off her dress and walking away like Veruca if she never got the golden ticket.

“Apate! You made it!” He joyed.

“Yep, I found some time in my schedule,” she lied.

For the next thirty minutes or so, the young lady hanged around Pluto as he talked with other attendees. She wasn’t too interested in the topics, finding that it was nothing she could relate to. But, she listened anyway so that she can have a better understanding of what this anniversary was of. For, she still had no idea what the big party was for.

“Pluto?” She called out, interrupting a tall gentleman in a black suit.

Turning his head to her direction, he asked, “Yes?”

“What is this anniversary for, anyway?”

Surprise cast on his face, not expecting her to still be oblivious. The surprise could also be seen on many of the people around him.

“She doesn’t know?” Whispered one lady.

Another person echoed a similar question, “How could she not know?”

Pluto chuckled in embarrassment, clearly not expecting her to have no idea.

“Why, madam, this is an anniversary for Black Hat Organization.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5,807 Words
> 
> A record! I had such fun making this one that I wasn't even paying attention to the word count.  
> Anyways, hold on tight! I have a feeling the next chapter is going to be a mix of awkward and exciting! Well, for me anyway.  
> Also, please tell me how I am doing. Am I going to fast? Am I going to slow? Is it too cheesy? I mean, I love cheese, but Cheeseous! I hate cheesy things/


	7. “You can run, (Y/n), but it won't do you much help.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have to go. I have to hide. They cannot know I am alive. If they know my heart still beats, what will they do to me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Just to let yall know in advance, I am giving the reader an estimated height.  
> It will be between 5'2 to 5'4.  
> If you are taller or shorter, tweak the story to your liking within your mind.

Tall pillars lined the walls and polished wood floors shined from the chandelier above. Since the ceiling was so high, the lady couldn’t make out what the mural was of. Although, she could tell that a lot of the paints used were dark. There were couches and chairs scattered out across the room, providing seats for those who want to take a breather. Which at the moment, looked very appealing. In a corner of the room, there was punch, snacks, and alcohol laying out on a table. Some robots wheeled across the floor, offering champagne to guests’. The room was nearly at full capacity but it appeared to be that no one else was going to come. Good thing too, because (Y/n)’s anxiety was starting to spike. This room held more people then she has seen in almost two years. And to put it bluntly, it was nerve-wracking.

She practically clung to Pluto’s side, to nervous to make herself known. All these monsters and not one of them looked friendly. They all had a dark aura around them that she was certain wasn’t around her. Perhaps they knew this and was waiting to strike; get rid of the oblivious one.

The night continued for about 30 minutes of casual talking. Everyone there seemed to know at least one person- which made her feel lucky that she knew Pluto. He seemed to be acquainted with a minimum of half of the beings there, making it easy for her to avoid conversation. Although, a person would occasionally comment about how her dress looks elegant; and with that, she would politely thank them.

Pluto talked and talked to a countless number of people. Some had more than one head, others had extra limbs, and a lot had anything but skin. All these people made her uncomfortable and anxious. The air was dense and getting thicker as the minutes passed. Her hairs pricked up into goosebumps, showing that she was cold when there wasn't even a draft. Something was coming, something sinister.

_ 'Why did I agree to come?' _ She thought nervously. Everything about this place screamed to run.

When Pluto told her this was for the anniversary of the Black Hat Organization, she was left confused once again. She'd never heard of that organization before and was curious about how she hasn't even picked up the name somewhere from her time on the island. Just as she was about the ask Pluto more questions, he turned his head and continued to talk to the monster he was speaking to prior. So, she stood by Pluto's side at all times. If he went somewhere, she went with him. If he chuckled, she chuckled. If he started running around screaming, she would do the same. 

Pluto waved his pale hand in front of (Y/n)'s face, signalling for her attention.

"Yes?" She said in a sickly sweet voice that came out of nowhere. Honestly, it was surprising. Perhaps she's had enough with all these people.

Pluto's eyes slightly widened, but otherwise remained stern-faced, "Would you like something to drink?"

She thought for a moment then asked, "Is there water?"

"I'm sure there is," he chuckled and proceeded to walk off to acquire the drink.

Just as he was starting to walk off, she followed pursuit. Although she didn't make two feet before Pluto told her to stay. He said that the dress she wore must be awfully heavy and heels are hard to walk in, so he didn't want her moving around too much. After she nodded her head in weariness, he disappeared into the sea of people. Maybe he just needed an excuse to get away from her. She probably came off as too clingy. Which isn't a far stretched idea. After all, she has been in his shadow since the night began. But what was so wrong with that? A lady who wanted the comfort of something familiar; nothing weird about it.

In the distance, she heard maniacal laugher approaching her person. It came closer and closer until a lady in a black and red dress was in front of her. By the looks of it, it was a lolita gothic victorian dress. 

"Hi! What's your name? Your dress is nice! Not my type though . . . How old are you? You're pretty! Not as pretty as me though. Where are you from Where do you live? What do you smell like?" She took a sniff of (Y/n)'s hair. "You smell like garbage! Hahaha, I'm just kidding, you just don't smell nice to me. Sorry, I don't see new people too often and I might have had too much punch," blurted a random young lady who came off a lot stronger then you thought anyone could.

(Y/n)'s eyes widened when seeing the green-haired, red-banged, spunky girl in front of her. Her eyes were different colours and she gave off a distinguishable vibe; one she wouldn't forget by tomorrow. But what grew her concern wasn't the exotic behaviour, but the miniature black top hat on the top of her head. Was is for looks, or is it something to worry about? Nonetheless, she introduced herself anyways.

"My name is Apate, what is your name?" She asked kindly, giving this hat-wearer the benefit of the doubt.

A Cheshire grin stretched across her face showing the canine teeth she had, "I'm Demencia! I'll forget your name within five minutes! Not that it will matter soon enough . . . Wanna meet the Doc?"

"The dock? Um, no thank you. I'm waiting for someone. And what do you mean it won't ma-," before she could finish her sentence, Demencia grabbed (Y/n)'s wrist and started to drag her off into a different section of the room. Demencia's nails dug into her wrist, making it feel like her skin would be pierced at any moment. She tried to struggle and tug her way out of Demencia's hold, but it seemed to be a death-grip.

The green-haired lady turned into a certain direction and ran. Chattering continued as the two zoomed by. Everything was a blur, mushing together into a bunch of jumbled up colors and voices.

"Lighten up! Life is no fun if you're always waiting on something," Demencia shouted as they approached a corner of the room. It seemed to be not as lit up like the rest of the room, giving off an eery feel.

She was about to rebut, but the duo suddenly came to a halt. The young lady ended up slamming into the green blob of hair. But what was expected to be a soft impact, turned out to be what felt like bricks. Damn, this outward lady is built like a rock.

"Here you go Flug-bug!" Cheered the girl. Then she let go of the person she was dragging and ran over to a wall to start scaling up it.

The young lady turned to see Demencia already halfway up the wall, not a care in the world. (Y/n) turned back around towards the dubbed "Dock" just as he began to speak.

"Hello, Apate," the paper-bag faced boy said. "That is your name, correct?"

This boy-sounding-man wore a royal blue tuxedo with a yellow bowtie. Above his left breast pocket was a gold pilot pin. The clothing didn't fit lounge suit attire, but not many people here bothered to follow the guidelines either.

Her eyes widened in surprise; how did he know that? How did he find out and/or who told him? Why is he somewhat familiar? She doesn't recall ever making conversation with him.

Giving a double-take at the wall that the blur of green dashed off to, she looked back at the Dock, "Yes, that is correct. How do you know?"

"The database registered a new name, so I glanced at it and found it intriguing. After some distant observing and previous knowledge, I figured you were Apate," he explained, rather cocky with his successful scavenger hunt. "And I believe to be rather adept at gathering information."

She was getting a bad feeling about him and about everything that was happening. Kinda like how she felt when arriving at the cult; the last minute instinct that told her to run. Not that his answer was bad, it just seemed off. It sounded like he was keeping something away. Perhaps a piece of information that he doesn't want to reveal . . . Which is concerning. But by the sound of it, he appears to be an employee. This could also explain a handful of questions that have surfaced.

Deciding she didn't want to stick around to find out the info, she turned around to escape. And she was quick to notice that some hat-wearing robots quietly snuck up behind her while she was having a short conversation with the Dock. They created a sort of circle around her, encasing her from the rest of the attendees.

Recognizing that she is traped, she turned around and looked at the man with a paper bag over his face. A bit of fear was held in her eyes, which made him chuckle. She could feel him smirking, knowing that she is cornered and with no escape. Does he get some sort of satisfaction when he feels in control? If so, why is it a rarity for him?

After clearing her throat, she replied with, "That's impressive."

"I know," he gleed. "But now onto the matter of hand- Who are you really?"

"I don't understand," she said, a nervous sweat coming out at the sudden interrogation.

"I've been gleaning the past couple of days about you, and no luck. Your name is the only thing I know. Not even my universal database has anything about you. With only your name, that doesn't make a happy boss," he grimaced "So, who are you?"

A stalker. Great.

Her head turned from left to right, searching for a way out. She slowly took a few feet back and decided to be reckless and bolt to the nearest exit. Although, the blue tuxedo man said something that made a chill run up her spine right before she ran:

"You can run (Y/n), but it won't do you much help."

Once that last word left his mouth, she gave a curt scream and ran towards one of the robots. A disadvantage for these metal helpers is that they are incredibly short, making it easy for her to jump over them. And she would do just that if she wasn't wearing heels; but to hell with it. Another one of those moments where the next few seconds could result in life or death. How cliche.

As soon as she was close enough, her body jumped up and over one of the robots that were aiming something similar to a gun at her. If that didn't get the adrenaline pumping, what would? When she landed, her ankles were sore, but they weren't broken. Some sort of miracle must've occurred while she jumped. 

Immediately after landing, she ran off towards the door she came in from. Unfortunately, the lights dimmed and the room hushed before she could make it twenty feet. 

Everyone swiftly stopped their chattering, a cold breeze flowed through every corner of the room. It was so quiet that a pen could be heard if dropped. But when she felt a hand on her shoulder that was presumably the Dock's, she thought as it to be her queue to leave. Jerking her shoulder away from the hand, she quietly started running off with her heels, attempting to make the least amount of noise possible. She rounded herself around the room and towards the desired area; dodging every person that was in the way. Although, her escape was cut short when she spotted a dark figure in front of the tall and wide doorframe. A large half-circle surrounds the being; all eyes seemed to be glued on this single individual. Everyone wanted to get closer, but no one had the bravery to approach said, individual. But, is it bravery, or fear?

This being was incredibly tall, disgustingly sinister, and vile in every way she could see. This being wore a pitch-black suit, crimson red puff tie, black leather gloves, monocle, and a black top hat. In his right hand was a black cane too. Everything about him was black and blood red. Just merely looking at him made goosebumps rise on her skin. This was it. This was the 'something big' and 'something sinister' that she knew was coming.  _ He  _ was what she was getting hyped up about. All of this dread in her heart, and it was her neighbour all along. Which is why she didn't know if she should be nervous, curious, or terrified.

The thought of getting out here as soon as possible went right out the window immediately after she saw him; which is strange because there were no windows in this room. Like a casino, now that she thinks about it. But with every second that ticked by, the more anticipation grew. When will he talk? When will anyone talk? What does he sound like? What kind of person is he? Why is everyone so silent all of a sudden? Does he have this effect on people naturally?

It was dark in the room, but bright enough for her to see everyone. The person in the middle of the circle could've been invisible with all the dark clothes he was wearing, but the monocle shined like there was a sun glaring at him. If she simply overlooked that and continued walking, what would've happened to her? What would he do?

No one was moving, no one was blinking, and some weren't even breathing. About two minutes passed before anything happened; when those two minutes passed, a disgusting and repulsive noise echoed across the room. His mouth turned into a snarl as he cleared his throat. When doing so, it reminded her of nails on a chalkboard- but if it was a bunch of slimy gunk in the back of someone’s throat. After the horrendous sound, it finally happened. The voice she hadn't ever heard. 

His voice sounded like he smoked a pack of cigarettes every day, at some points it raised in octaves and gave an irritating screech noise. There was nothing about his voice that remained consistent. No two words were alike. But, one thing that did remain constant, was his tone. Grumpy, disappointed, and held a lack of amusement. His voice was quite possibly the worst thing she has ever heard, but certainly the worst voice she has ever listened too.

The voice started sickly sweet (as if he doesn't use that tone often), but slowly grew evil and narcissistic, "Welcome one, and welcome all. I, Black Hat, thank those of you who took time out of your  _ oh so _ busy schedules to attend Black Hat Organization's 250th anniversary! It was 250 years ago on this day that I retired from my evil-doing and started my business in aiding those who can't deal _ with a simple prob _ **_lem themselves!_ ** "

Everyone collectively leaned back a little bit at the sudden outburst. Dubbed _ Black Hat _ (as weird of a name is that) took a breath and composed himself.

"Over the years this company has grown and a countless amount of heroes have been dealt with accordingly. Because of the rapid increase in customers, I had to acquire an assistant. Not because I needed one, but because this is my  _ retirement _ after all. Thus, I found Dr. Kenning FlugSlys."

The scrawny paper bag dude from before walked towards Black Hat as a round of applause greeted him. But he was walking too slow because Black Hat shot him a nasty look, so he started jogging. Once arriving beside Black Hat, it was visibly seen that he was shaking. (Y/n) didn't recall him shaking when she first talked to him. He appeared confident and all-knowing, not weary and nervous.

"These past few years with Dr. Flug have shown to be the peak of my company. Thanks to Dr. Flug's brilliant mind, we have the weaponry that is here today." 

And for a few mere seconds, a look of joy shot over Dr. Flug's bag; clearly he wasn't used to praising.

"Of course, with a lot of trial and error along the way," Black Hat snarled as he clenched his fist around the handle of the cane, twisting his head towards the doctor.

Dr. Flug let out a nervous squeal, shaking even more than before. His head shrunk back and his body decreased in height.

Black Hat continued after the little show of order, "Nevertheless, great years it has been. So I encourage you to enjoy the rest of this evening, and leave as soon as the clock hits midnight . . . _ or else _ ."

Another round of applause began, larger than the previous. Whether it be because of the ending of the speech, or out of fear, she may not know.

But throughout the speech, her heart started to thump faster and faster. Every word that left his neon green teeth pierced her soul. One thing was going through her mind:

'Holy shit. This is a villain's organization.'

How could she have not figured it out before? All these strange people gathered into one place; it screamed evil! She chose to ignore it because you aren't supposed to judge people. But maybe a little bit of judgment would've been nice in this situation.

Those who gathered around the host slowly started to disperse, some even leaving immediately after. As the crowd thinned, the young lady looked back over towards the duo.

The doctor was whispering something up towards his boss, the dark being slightly leaning down. No kidding, this dude has got to be at least six foot seven inches. It is ridiculous how tall he is.

(Y/n) saw the rim of the black hat tip slightly in a nod. Then, Flug went back to his original stance and stared at (Y/n). A moment later, Black Hat straightened his body and stared at her too.

Her body stiffened at the two males who stared intently at her, judging her every movement. Back and forth her eyes dashed between the two. One side of her lips jerked up as she let out a nervous chuckle. Right now would be a really good time to have an escape plan. And thankfully Pluto is her saving grace.

"Apate! There you are. I couldn't find you anywhere," Pluto's worried voice said behind her. "But now that I see you, let's dance!"

He grabbed her hand and made her do an unexpected twirl. She then noticed two things as her brain was turning into scrambled eggs:

  1. There was dancing music playing that she didn't know existed.
  2. Black Hat and Dr. Flug disappeared from the area she last saw them.



The lady's eyes widened in surprise, not expecting then to vanish so quickly; but then rose the question: Where are they?

"S-Sorry, Pluto, I can't dance," she kindly warned, stumbling over her words. This whole thing has her shook up.

"Nonsense! You said you wouldn't be able to attend this gathering, but here you are! You must know at least one dance," he replied with as he dragged her over towards the middle of the room. He didn't even give her a moment to respond.

The Center of this room resembled the centre of a stage. Caos; lots of things happening at once. She used to be accustomed to things like this, but over the last few years, her ability to handle large groups of people dropped out of her list of skills. Then it was for a moment in the middle of these people, that her family crossed her mind. All of them would gather at their oldest relative's house. It happened to be (Y/n)'s great-grandpa. It was a big family reunion that every one of blood was invited too. Her old gramps was a grumpy old man, bitter to some people; but he had a sweet-tooth for her. Made her feel special. Maybe this is why she liked Richard so much- reminded her of her great-grandpa.

But with all these monsters surrounding her, she felt claustrophobic and in danger. Nothing like when she was a child.

Pluto grabbed her hands and danced in sporadic movements that didn't replicate any dance she knew of. Perhaps it was completely freestyle. They turned and twirled with their hands grasped together, only letting go when they had too. Sometimes they would create an arch, or maybe she would be dipped at random moments. As they danced, her stomach became more and more upset. With every spin she endured, she started to wonder if Pluto knew how to dance himself. So many twists and jerks and one more may just make her puke.

Thankfully, someone behind Pluto asked him for a turn. Him being the kind person he is (or so she liked to believe), he spun her towards the awaiting being.

That being just so happened to be Dr. Flug.

There was a dark aura around the doctor, awaiting her presence. His arms were spread out slightly and his hands greeted hers. At least, that's how she expected it was supposed to go. Instead, they bumped heads and her balance was thrown off. She then proceeded to trip of her gown and the dress nearly showed what she was wearing underneath. But it stopped just mid-thigh.

Dr. Flug let out a startled gasp and quickly started to apologize, "I'm so so so sorry, we haven't even started dancing and I've messed up!"

He grabbed her hands and hoisted her up. 

"It's . . . fine," was what she assured him with. Although, confused if this was the same person she talked to earlier.

Noticing her confusion, he recovered his tough-guy act with haste. His chest puffed up and he rose his chin up a tad. This guy was slowly becoming more entertaining than fearsome.

Flug grabbed her hand and placed his other on her waist. She did the same but placed her other hand on his shoulder.

They then began to do the salsa- no, cha-cha slide? Wait, tango? What is this dance? This dude may be worse than her. Which was proven when he started to step on her feet, having her say "ouch" every time he does so. At first, he didn't say sorry, but after the tenth time, he began to be apologetic. This guy really sucks at dancing. And this was coming from a person who couldn't dance.

She was about ready to leave the dance before the music was over, but a random lady came by and asked for a turn. The song wasn't even over and people are trying to dance with her? This is a bit abnormal.

What is so appealing about (Y/n)? She didn't see anything too unique about her; just a lady in a dress, in a place she doesn't belong.

But Flug was too much of a disaster at the moment to say no. So, (Y/n) was handed off once again to another person.

This gal, unlike the two other males, seemed to know what she was doing. Which is good because the young lady's body was about done with sporadic movements.

They danced together in slight sync until the music ended, and then parted off into different directions. Her's being the nearest exit.

The young lady let out a sigh of relief at the halt of dancing. She needed a moment. 

A new song played, this one seems more gothic than the rest. It matched the vibe of an enchanted ballroom, which she wouldn't be surprised if this place just so happened to be one. The music bounced off the walls and echoed. Wherever the secret orchestra is located, they are good at what they do.

Deciding that so long as she avoided everyone, there should be no-

"May I have this dance?" said a voice from behind her, stopping her in her tracks. It almost seemed like she was up to no good. But she immediately noticed that it sounded more like a demand than a question. Like she doesn't have a choice.

The voice that her ears heard, was not mistaken. Gravely, dark, deep, and sickeningly disgusting in its own maleficent way. If she turned around, something has to happen. Her skin turned into a piece of bubble-wrap, prickling at the unknown. It was like hiding under the covers, knowing that a monster is  _ right there _ . She shook in her skin, ungracefully turning towards the obviously feared Black Hat. When she turned, she creaked her neck up, not able to see his face at first. It was then when she got to see how tall he really it. Her initial estimate appeared accurate, but 6'7 is a lot taller then she thought it was. This man had to be about two, three, or maybe even four heads taller than her. And it was then that the option of running was very appealing.

Once her neck tilted up all the way, she got to see his face in every excruciating detail. His skin was a darker grey, the eye of a cat, thin lips that appeared nonexistent, no nose or ears, and a monocule to reflect her face of fear. He was a sight to see, and an unpleasant one at that.

She started to give him an answer, but all she could get out was, "U-Um, um . . . um."

This was clearly the incorrect answer because his stone-cold face slowly started to mould into one of impatience. She could hear his shoe taping on the floor as his hand continued to be held out for her to grab. 

The eyes on her became apparent. Why so many people were staring now, she had not a clue. 

Although instead of grabbing it, she politely declined his offer, "I'm sorry, but I must go." Then she slowly started to back up. The few people in earshot gasped, as if she did the unspeakable.

His pupil turned into a dark shade of red as he snarled and bared his teeth, "Excuse me?"

There was an audible gulp coming from the girl as she swallowed her fear, "I cannot dance at this time, please pardon my rudeness."

The palm that awaited her hand sharply closed after her response. It clenched and he lowered it to his side.

"I don't think you understand," he began. "That was not a request nor a question."

In swift and precise movements, he forced her into a dancing position with his hand on her back and other raised to the sky with their fingers grasped together. With his hand being on her back, this made them closer than before. Awkwardly close. Really close. Too close. She is in a (probably) waltz position with the person who wears a black top hat. She is about to dance with the person who has been her neighbour since she got here. That neighbour wanting nothing to do with her before, but seems to want to get rid of her now.

Off they went as a circle formed around the two. The waltz is what she believed this dance was, but then again, she can't dance so why would she know dances?

Even if she couldn't dance, it worked to her pleasure. This man is forcing her to dance when she did not want to do such; therefore, stepping on his feet would be a form of payback that will have a backlash later on. But not right now. This being holds a strict figure in the eyes of the public, and to ruin it is not good. So he will have to bere with her terrible dancing.

Something she immediately noticed was that he wasn't showing any form of pain or discomfort. Maybe his shoes were steel-toed?

They twirled and stepped side to side, the song seeming never-ending. During the duration of the dance, she had no idea what she was doing; and he learned that quickly. Somehow by someway, he managed to keep her in line and in sync with his movements. Surprisingly well.

All the eyes staring at the duo began to fade as she became enveloped with the music and swaying. It was almost peaceful but felt more intoxicating than anything. Her eyes batted a few times, trying to keep her mind awake. What time was it? It wasn't too late last she checked, but then again, not as many people appeared to be in the room as before. Why is her mind suddenly shutting down? Is . . . Is he doing this? Or, is it the corset restricting her breathing. Everything was a haze, and before she knew it, the hands that were on her were gone. She could still see the man in black in front of her, so maybe she's just not breathing correctly.

After taking a few deep breaths, she thanked him for the dance and scurried off towards the grand doors that she has been wanting to go threw this entire evening. As soon as she passed the doors and they closed behind her, her mind was suddenly clear and she could take in everything around her just as she could earlier that evening. Everything about her was suddenly at ease. Away from the chaos of those people. Now all she has to do is get out of this place. Sure, she lives right across the street; but anywhere is better than here.

Without a second thought, she took off her heels and walked down the dark halls to where she last remembered the front door being. How was she going to get this corset off when she gets home? What about the dress? The corset is too restricting for her to be able to take it off herself. Maybe Richard is still up. He normally is.

And then a thought struck: in the early morning of her dragging her body home from the cult meeting, how did he know she was there? She recalled asking him why he was still up, but he dodged the question. 

Well, that's just strange.

She passed by a few familiar paintings and noticed how every single one of them had her neighbour. 

_ ‘Narcissist,’ _ she scoffed.

_ "Halt! Your presence has been requested by our Lord Black Hat." _

Oh, he's a lord now?

(Y/n) looked up and saw two robots that looked like the hatbotler, but taller, buffy, two legs instead of one, one eye, and a tophat replacing the bowler's hat. They looked scary with their red beady eyes staring directly at her.

"No thanks, I'm tired and would like to go home," she replied with, completely done with this shit.

_ "Force will be used if the lady denies the request." _

_ 'I don't think it's much of a request,' _ she thought.

Then she smirked and held onto her heels tight, "Only if you can catch me!" And she was off.

Her first mistake was trying to go around the robots.

And then she blacked out.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5185 Words  
> Point out any errors if you see any.  
> Sorry, this took longer than projected.  
> Thank you for reading!  
> <3  
> (P.S. PAY ATTENTION TO THE SUMMARY'S!!!)


	8. "Interrogation with Torture."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’ve gone away, to a land far off across the sea. It is scary, and it is new, but perhaps I am safe now that I am no longer known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I nearly lost this entire chapter just now, and I was about to scream. Luckily, I got ahold of the recovery files.

When she woke up, she noticed two things: one being that she hasn't been asleep for long, and two is that there was a terrible migraine going on in her head. Her neck cracked when she tilted it and her fingers groaned when moving them. Whatever she was sitting on was comfortable, but not enough to sleep in. Just by adjusting her seating, her butt was sore. Like if she fell on it and it left a bruise. If that was the case, then her right arm felt the same way.

She arched her back and spread her arms out, yawning and stretching to life. Along the way, a few of her joints popped in satisfaction. A quiet sigh left her lips after repositioning her body. Blinking her eyes open, she noticed that the room she was in was very dark. The only light was of a candle that illuminated from somewhere in front of her. After looking down, she noticed that she was sitting in a rather extravagant chair. Something that looked to be handcrafted to perfection. Her arms rested on top of the armrests with her dress sprawled out across the floor. Originally, she was slouching, but now she sat upright.

Right and left her head turned, trying to see here surrounds; she even leaned over the chair a little bit to look behind her, only to see a void of darkness. She was getting more nervous as the seconds passed, each moment seeming longer then the last. But what time was it anyways? Had the party ended? Where is she- is she still in the mansion? Why is it so dark in this room?

"Done with your observing?" A deep and rusty voice rumbled in front of her.

Her breath got caught for a second, causing her to make a sharp gasp. Having a person in the room with her wasn't something she expected. Although, this led to a question- was this person watching her? Or even could they since the room was so dark.

The voice before her cleared his throat to say something else, "Tell me your name."

For a moment she was silent, then she said, "What is your name?"

What a stupid question that was. Just by hearing his voice she already knew the answer.

"Do not act as if you are the one in charge. I asked a question, you will answer," his voice raised, and pitch deepened. The room started to grow colder as the conversation continued.

Her voice started to quiver from being cold; or maybe it was from fear, she couldn't tell, "And if I don't?"

He was quiet for about a minute, maybe longer. It was long enough for her to think he didn't hear what she said.

"I already know the answer, so it will not mean anything to me. To you, although, could decide whether you live or die within these next few minutes," he answered with tranquility.

Her breathing hitched. Then she gulped and attempted to calm the shivers running down her back. Death is not ideal. Even if she does come back, the process is displeasing and not worth the sacrifice. After taking a few discrete breaths, she responded with a simple, "(Y/n)."

"Surname?" He follow-upped.

"I believe my last name to be irrelevant," she coolly replied with.

In this empty and dark room, she started to hear a tapping. It sounded like a nail hitting against a piece of wood. A silhouette casted on a surface and showed a sharp talon tapping away at a surface.

"May I see your face?" She asked before anything else happened.

The tapping ceased for a second before continuing. When it continued, tall torches lit aflame in the corners of the room in synchronization to the tapping. With each tap, a new torch lit up. Those green flames giving more light then one would think. It stopped at four, having no more corners to light up, although the tapping continued. With this new light, (Y/n) got to see the horrid face she saw not more than two hours ago. But with the shadows and light conflicting, it looked like a battlefield was at war on his skin. His hat casted a shadow halfway across his face, the only things visible was his neon green teeth showing from his broad grin and the reflection from that monocle.

Something she immediately noticed was that his hands were clasped together in front of him, his elbows being used as leverage. Which wouldn't be too weird- but the tapping continued. She couldn't see the shadow of the nail anymore, so where was it coming from?

The room gave a faint aroma of death and the air was as thick as blood. Why was is suddenly hard to breath? When did the mood shift?

"I've had my doctor do some research on you, for we've never bothered to before. As of recently, you have appeared to be a more often occurrence with our daily lives," he paused for a moment. "So, do you mind telling me why we can find only the bare minimum about you?"

She tilted her head around in a circle, two cracks being released from her neck. Then, in very subtle movements, she lifted one leg over the other and crossed her arms. "I don't see the relevancy of my being her because information on me is scarce," she calmly stated.

"You could be a risk to my company. It is only customary to do background research on someone- or something- that could be the cause of bad business," he grumbled. His tone sounded like he was dealing with a mere business querie.

Then she scoffed at his claim, "My intentions are little, but true. I swear. My being here will not affect you, your company, nor your employee's lives."

He let out a dark chuckle, "Perhaps I might've believed you if this were the 16-hundreds. But it is not. Therefore, a human's words no longer bare truth."

"That's not true! I think you should have a little more faith in the words of someone who has done no wrong to you," her voice raised.

"I think you should stop telling me what I should and should not do," he snarled.

"I think you should listen to what I have to say!" She shouted

"I think you should start explaining yourself," The beast growled.

"I think you should have respect for my privacy!"

"I think you should have respect for your superiors!" He admonished.

"I think you should learn to have some respect before it is given to you!" She yelled as her voice cracked in between her sentence. By the end of her statement she was fuming, done with his impudently.

And that's when there was a pause. A long pause.

When he spoke again, he was no longer clenching onto the edge of his desk with his shoulders arched up and breath labored. He was now cool and composted, like how he was three minutes ago.

He inhaled through his mouth, "I have worked for the respect that is given to me."

She scoffed again, her temper tantrum continuing, "Is that respect, or fear?"

"It is but the same word in different form. And I should not be having this conversation with a child like you!" He hissed with a snake-like tongue poking out.

Then she laughed and retorted with, "You call me a child, but at least I don't act like one you top-hat-wearing-Jaws-impersonator!"

Okay, she will admit, name-calling is very childish. But damn it felt good . . . for the two seconds it lasted.

A face of shock was the first thing that flashed across his face before he was in front of her in a blink of an eye. Then he grabbed her throat and lifted her up.

"How. Dare. You." He heaved in exasperation.

She grabbed onto his arm for supported as she stuttered out, "My a-aren't you i-irascible." Probably not the best thing to say when she's being strangled, but if she's going to die, might as well say what she thinks.

His fingers extended into claws and it pierced into her skin as it did. She felt her warm blood trail down her cold skin. Everything around her was getting blurry and black spots started to appear. Something random she noticed, was that he was willowy. More than she remembered. Perhaps his body resizes based on his mood.

"You're wasting my time. I have more important things to attend to," he breathed out. "I'll have the doctor deal with you."

Her body felt like it was folding in on itself, each bone being squished together. Which is not a new feeling. Then she was thrown onto a cold surface and some voices started to talk in no distinguishable direction. She wasn't paying attention, to focused on regaining her breath. But everything started to slam down on her as anxiety began to make another appearance. And then she passed out.

A bright light shone in front of her eyes, it reminded her of the dentist’s office, and they would have her wear a pair of sunglasses to make it easier to see. But she lacked the glasses, so it burned her eyes when she woke up. There was a clink from somewhere in the room that she was held in. A pitter patter went across the room, from one place to another. It sounded like shoes.

After deciding to keep her eyes closed, she took a deep breath and tried to stretch. And that was when she found out her limbs were strapped to a metal table. She pulled and tugged at the limb-restriction, but it wouldn't give. By the feel of it, it was leather. Typical and effective.

"Awake I see," said a calm voice by the side of her.

She cracked open her eyes to try and see who it was, but only saw the reflection of goggles. Although that was all she needed to know, because now she knew that this was the notorious Dr. Flug. The lady knew very little about him, but if he worked for a villain like Black Hat, he's got to be bad.

Her voice croaked what she spoke, "So, what are you going to do to me?"

His chuckle wasn't well hidden (that's if he was trying to hide it), "Depends on how compliant you are."

"Ah, interrogation with torture," she assumed.

"My preferred type of interrogation," the young man confirmed.

It was silent for a moment, which gave her time to decide what she should do. The easy answer was to be compliant and not get hurt; but she didn't hide away from society just to tell her life story to a bunch of rondos who grew an interest towards her.

"Spoiler alert: I'm stubborn," she said.

He really did chuckle this time, "Goodie! More fun for me. But I may accidentally kill you in the process. Not that is matters."

Something told her that it wouldn't be an accident that kills her.

"I'll take the risk," the lady replied.

"Good; because what's life without a little risk?"

That question probably wasn't supposed to have an answer, but she told herself, 'A life not worth living.'

She closed her eyes again and waited for the doctor to speak. The young woman could hear him arranging some tools and him mumbling to himself. It was about a minute later when everything went silent and the first question was asked.

"What's the full name on your birth certificate?" He asked.

"Apate Benson Jetson," she smugly stated. Where Benson came from, she has no idea. But it rhymed and sounded nice enough.

What sounded like a boyish version of a growl rumbled from Dr. Flug's throat. It was kind of adorable and he should feel humiliated with how much that didn't make her fear for her life.

"Name," he repeated.

"Kendra Marshal Jones."

"Name."

"Daffy Duck."

"That's a cartoon character."

"No shit sherlock."

"Name."

Geez this guy is patient. What has he gone through to be so calm in annoying situations?

"Merilyn Monroe."

"You’re persistent," he groaned.

She chucked and said, "I told you, I'm insistent."

"Uhuh," was all he replied with as he grabbed something from were metal was heard from prior.

A minute or so passed by before she commented, "When I first saw you, I noticed you looked incredibly emaciated. Tell me, do you perhaps have a rare illness?"

"This is an interrogation towards you, not me," he reminded.

"Ah, yes, of course."

Another minute.

"Now, you tell me. How well do you handle pain?" He tittered.

"Alright I suppose," she answered. Considering what she's been through, torture would be no different from rearranging her bones, organs, blood, etc. Although, this time she won't be the reason for her pain. Whether that makes it worse or not, she will soon find out.

His rubber gloved hand rested right below her ribcage as a sharp scalpel poked at the base of her sternum. Slowly, very slowly, he dragged the instruments edge down towards her bellybutton. It seemed almost like he was preforming surgery.

And then, a realization dawned on her: she may have teased a little too much. Sure, the pain shouldn't be as bad as what she's dealt with, but isn't this avoidable? Aren’t scenarios like this the ones that get her into deadly situations?

The whole was to piss him off, not be killed. Clearly, she upset him, but this scene looks like she won't be getting out alive.

"(Y/n) Jones," she rushed.

He paused his actions, "Jones?"

Sighing she replied, "Generic, I know, but it's what I have."

_Liar._

Huffing, he said, "Why do I feel like you're lying?"

She smiled, "Maybe because you have no reason to trust me."

Silence absorbed the room. Their conversation ceased and he paused his actions; contemplating over what she said. With the absence of a distraction, she went back to feeling the cold air that surrounded her. It made her nose dry.

The scalpel retracted from her body, a thin stream of blood oozed from the cut and slowly slid down her belly. It didn't bother her too much, just made the hairs on her skin perk up. She heard the scalpel be placed on the metal pan. His footsteps wandered around the room before pausing and then redirecting towards her.

During this time, she tried to think about what she's wearing. Nothing was ripped when he pierced her skin, and she didn't feel any clothing besides undergarments. Which would make sense if it weren't for her not wearing a bra when entering the building. Her corset was built with one after all.

Deciding to not question anything anymore, she just listened to whatever the doctor was doing. Which just so happened to be rubbing a moist towel over the cut.

“I asked one question and you gave me a hard time. So, question two: Why are you stubborn?” He calmly asked.

His mood went a total 180 and was, too say the least, unexpected. But, liking this new question, she replied with, “I’m not normally, I just don’t like disclosing information to strangers.

Sighing, he nodded his head in agreement. “Understandable.”

“First question: Why do you guys want to know stuff about me?” She asked.

He looked like he was about to say something, but than just looked back down to continue with his treatment.

“You’ve been our neighbor for some time now, and you looked so weak that the boss didn’t even bother to have me do research on you. Even Richard looked in better shape then you.”

She was surprised with his response, not expecting her to look that weak. Sure, when she first moved in she wasn’t doing all that great, but she’s better now, right?

“That was when I first moved in, what about now?” She queried.

He shrugged his shoulders and started to rub rubbing alcohol on the inflicted wound. She hissed from the unexpected displeasing contact. Although, he didn’t retract because of her reaction.

“Why the boss suddenly wants information on you is beyond me. I just carry out his commands.”

This was getting nowhere. The only person who would have the answer to all her questions is the very being she’d not want to confront again.

Clearing his throat he continued on with his questioning, “Number three: Why did you move here? This neighborhood in particular.”

“It’s on the outskirts of society. This island included. Have you ever noticed that no one every talks about this place? On maps, it’s not even there. Like everyone here doesn’t exist,” her voice sounded like she was speaking beyond.

Chuckling, he replied, “That’s how the Jefe likes it.”

What he said was a little confusing. How does his Jefe(?) have anything to do with the secrecy of this big rock? Nevertheless, it was her turn for a question.

“He said he already knew my name, so why would ask me then?”

“It was a bluff. In case you didn’t already know, we can’t find anything on you,” he sighed. The thought of having no details on her seemed to frustrate him. “Question four: Where did you live prior?”

Opening her mouth, she was about to answer before her mind went blank. Where did she live before? She’d lived there all her life until recently, but now she draws a blank. Is that an effect of this weird island? Her eyes looked into the darkness, trying to resurface that small detail. Everything that happened there could be recalled, except wherever there was. It took her a minute to think before she decided it was lost in her mind.

“Somewhere beautiful but unknown. A small population lived there. I’m sorry. I can’t recall where I last lived. I guess I just . . . forgot.” It was baffling! How could she forget? What is wrong with her?

Nodding his head, he seemed to understand what she’s getting at. “I know how you feel. I forget things like that every now and then. It’s normal.”

How can that be normal? How can dementia be normal?

“He has a temper I noticed,” she scoffed.

He laughed again and said, “A little bit, but it’s more exaggerated with strangers.”

_‘Really? I couldn’t tell.’_

“Done,” he said.

Looking down, she saw he treated her and bandaged everything that was bleeding.

“It will take awhile to completely heal, but no scaring should happen.”

Nodding her head, she gave him her thanks.

And then awkward silence filled the atmosphere. Really dense, thick, and claustrophobic silence. It was bothering her. She wanted to say something, but nothing would seem to help. Why did this suddenly happen? Does he have no more questions? Does he have this effect on people? That’s an unfortunate curse to have.

The silence continued for one, two, three, and then four minutes. She doesn’t know where he is in the room. Maybe he left and this feeling is unnecessary. Who knows?

“This is awkward. And I don’t know how to deal with it other then what I do best,” he nervously chuckled.

“What do you do be-.”

No questioning, no consent, no anything. He just put a cloth over her mouth, and she begun to get sleepy.

“Sorry not sorry.”

_‘To think I was getting us . . . used to . . .’_

_She remembered from a popular Broadway the following: “Death doesn’t discriminate between the sinners and the saints; it just takes, and it takes, and it takes.”_

_So, what was so repulsing about her, that not even death is willing to accept her into their cold embrace. That is a question she has asked herself a few times, expecting an answer; although, never receiving one, she still ponders._

_It was a night like this one that she wonders what the universe has in store for her. As of recently, nothing good; but perhaps the adjustment of her surrounds will change that. Something new was welcomed into her arms like how a mother holds her newborn for the first time. It felt refreshing along with a promise to change her life._

_She gazes out her window from her bed, looking at the night sky. The stars were hidden because of light pollution, but it was still nice to look at the endless darkness that was called space._

_This was her second night on this foreign land, in this strange neighborhood, in the new house. Everything around her felt like a new chapter in her book. New adventures to present themselves. Only reading on will reveal what the author has instore. But right now? Right now, her story was copacetic._

In a jolt, her body sprung forward on the bed she was resting on. The bed, nor the room she was in, was familiar. Although, the theme of the room was familiar. It reminded her of the same pattern that the Black Hat Manor kept throughout its entire building. Dark and gloomy. She was sure that anyone who stayed in that place for a mere few hours would become depressed.

And now that she thinks about it, is this the manor? What she just dreamt must’ve been a nightmare- especially that last part of her dream.

Moving her head, she noticed that she was just placed on the bed, not tucked in. Which is fine, it’d be weird if someone she didn’t know tucked her in.

The thought of being somewhere unfamiliar settled in as she started to feel unnerved. Eye’s were everywhere, she just couldn’t see them. It was awfully dark in the room too. There was a light coming from a candlestick on the bedside table to her left. The wax was almost out and melted onto the dark wood it was set on. The moat around it collected what it could, but it toppled over once the plaster bowl was filled up.

Slowly she twisted to the side of the bed, her toes just barely touching the ground. From what she felt, it was cold hardwood.

Lifting herself up, she stood on the ground as a shiver resonated across her skin. Then, she grabbed the handle of the candlestick and started to make her way across the room and over towards the door.

Her feet made a pitter-patter sound whenever she took a step; reminding her of raindrops hitting a solid surface. Soothing it was to her ears.

As she stood in front of the door, her hand grasped the knob and gave it a twist. To her slight surprise, it opened. With that, she stepped out of the room and closed the door once she exited.

Briskly she walked down the corridor, deciding to stay to the left. Left turn, left turn, stairs, left turn, why is this place so big, left turn, left turn, stairs, who needs a place this big, left turn, wall, le- wall?! Having her reaction being to slow, her nose smashed into a large metal door. After rubbing the sore spot, she took a moment to observe the door before her. It was unlike all the other doors that were dark, wood, and with some sort of design. It was made of metal with a scan pad inside the wall next to it. She looked at the peculiar device, noticing three, flashing blue lights coming from it. And then, the screen lit up, now reflecting her face of amazement. The blue lights flicked off as a blue ray scanned over her face, then the ray went away, and the lights turned red. A big red “X” appeared on the screen along with a low beep. Then the “X” disappeared and a “Not Authorized” replaced it. About two seconds later, the lights and screen returned to its original look.

Her eyes widened in amazement. This thing just scanned her and knew she was not what it was looking for. Technology like this reminded her of something from a futuristic movie. Very cool it was indeed.

But this didn’t solve any of her problems. What was on the other side? How does she get out of this place? Where are other living, breathing, beings?

Deciding that this metal door would not be an exit, she continued to wander.

It was a solid ten minutes before she came across something that was different from black, red, and paintings of figures she couldn’t distinguish in the dark. Although, what she found wasn’t what she wanted. Instead, while walking into a new hallway, she saw a silhouette of a large figure. Easily seven feet tall and wide enough for her to speed walk in the opposite direction. But (like everything else in the universe) luck wasn’t on her side, for the giant being saw her and started to approach her. Luckily, it wasn’t moving very fast. So with this advantage, she spared a glance back at the black figure. It was then when she saw a slow-flashing light attached to the figure. It flickered red every few moments.

This wasn’t what frightened her.

Whatever turned the corner behind the being, freaked her out. She let out a curt yelp as a reflection of light caught what could only be assumed as glass. It flashed across a pair of glasses like how one would see in a movie when a person was about to be severely hurt.

That. That was what frightened her.

Sprinting away as fast as possible, she was happy that her heels weren’t on. But then again, where was the clothing that she arrived in? All she was wearing was this nightgown. Who put her in the nightgown? Does no one here have an decency, or is everyone just unfazed of having a half-naked woman in front of them.

“Don’t run,” echoed a voice from behind her.

_‘Yes, of course, why didn’t I do that in the first place?’_

In case the sarcasm wasn’t enough, she knew she was going to keep on running until she cannot any longer.

Which did not last long. Because out of all the twists and turns she has endured throughout her stroll around this maze-of-a-mansion, a dead-end was found. How inconvenient.

The dead end had a window showcasing the dead-lands of the island. No life or light showed.

“Where have you been?” She recognized that voice.

Turning around, she saw the doctor a few feet in front of her. He wouldn’t of been distinguishable if it weren’t for his high voice.

“Around . . . ,” she answered, unsure of how to react.

He groaned and said, “Obviously, I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

She glanced around Flug’s figure and saw the monster right behind him.

“What’s that,” she asked as her finger pointed at the silhouette with a red light.

Turning his head, he glanced at the tall being. “That’s 5.0.5. I sent him to check up on you, but he came back saying that you weren’t in your room.”

“Oh,” was what she said before a moment of silence followed.

“. . . My room?” She questioned.

His bag nodded.

“Ah,” the lady began. “How so?”

A squeaky chuckle came from in front of her. “Well I assigned it to you obviously.”

He seemed to favor that word, obviously.

Shaking her head slightly, she replied with, “But I don’t live here.”

“You do now.”

“What?”

“. . .”

“Doctor?”

“Arrangements have been made,” he mumbled.

She scoffed, “Arrangements? These arrangements seem pretty extreme to me.”

Once again he chuckled, a little more nervous this time. “Well, it was just decided not long ago that you will now be working here.”

“What.”

“Uh-yeah! I was in need of an extra hand (not that I’m not capable by myself) and you just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. So now, you have been, eh, surprise adopted! Yes.”

The beast behind the doctor purred in delight, seemingly happy with the new event.

Dr. Flug fidgeted for a moment before blurting out, “Before going on a tangent, could we go to my lab instead?”

She huffed, “That sounds like a terrible idea.”

“Please,” he practically begged.

_‘What’s his problem?’_

It was a brisk moment before she replied with a ‘fine’.

Together they walked back towards the metal door that she found earlier. After the doctor correctly identified himself, the doors opened to a pit of blackness. And then slowly, one by one, lights began to turn on. It was clear from the moment a light turned on that this was the most well-kept yet dirtiest place she has ever seen. It was organized chaos.

“Sorry for the mess, it hasn’t been cleaned in a while,” he apologized.

“It’s . . . fine.”

Dr. Flug turned around and looked at the beast that was behind (Y/n), “Five’s? How about you head off to bed, I’ll be there to tuck you in in a little bit.”

She turned around to see a seven-foot blue bear rub their eyes. Then it nodded and sluggishly made its was out of the lab, the doors closing behind it.

Well wasn’t that just a unique experience.

“Now that he is gone . . .” She turned around to face the doctor again. “Everything you own has whether been burned, disposed of, or transferred to your new room and/or storage room. You now work, live, and serve the Black Hat Organization.”

His demeanor went a whole 360 from how he acted just a moment ago. It was as if he was holding up a façade for that blue bear.

“Excuse me?” Was all she could manage to say.

“You heard what I said, I will not repeat myself.”

“I already have a job- two!”

“Irrelevant.”

“I live across the street!”

“Irrelevant.”

“I never applied to work here!”

“Irrelevant.”

“I will not work here!”

“Incorrect.”

“No, not incorrect! True! Fact!”

“As of midnight, you became an employee, you don’t get a choice in the matter,” he stated.

“Yes, I do!” She shouted.

He chuckled, this one a lot more menacing then the squeaky one he let gave earlier, “No, you don’t. The boss already authorized your staying-here. Therefore, it is finalized.”

“I didn’t even sign a contract,” she huffed, thinking of no other rebuttal.

He paused for a moment, “True, but that won’t be for long.”

Baffled, she sputtered, “Like hell! I’m never signing a contract.”

Under his breath, he said something that she couldn’t quite catch.

Coughing, he continued, “This is a briefing, not you saying you won’t sign a contract that will end up signing.”

“I am not sig-“

He continued with a disregard for whatever she was about to say.

“You will be working every day of the week unless you are unneeded,” he began.

“Wha-“

“It will be the average 9 to 5 schedule unless you are needed outside of workhours, in that case, you are required to attend to the one who called for your assistance. Only the boss and I have the authority to call upon you outside of workhours. During, though, is free game to every resident of the manor- AND associates who come by to speak with Lord Black Hat.”

“What the he-“

“Your job will include the following: cleaning, prepping, cooking on request, generic assistance, and overall obedience to every request and command that is given to you. You do not get a choice to what jobs you do every day. I will be arranging your day-to-day schedule along with input from the boss. Here at Black Hat Organization we are a company ran off limited employees, therefore, one must be capable of performing multiple tasks. If you do not know how to complete a task, you will learn. There are now three official employees, one servant, 20 machinists, and one boss. This list excludes all robotic assistance,” then he gasped for a breath. “It is very late, and I have about two more hours of sleep before I have to get up and work again. I will guide you back to your room and we can talk about this more at a later date- I just do not have the strength right now.”

Her mouth opened and shut multiple times, resembling a fish. All this new information led her speechless. Surely she would regret not saying something.

Then she nodded, agreeing to the thought of sleep.

He proceeded to guide her back towards her new room and then, before he left, he said, “You are expected to be up by eight, shift begins at nine. A uniform will hang from your door when you wake up.”

And then he was gone.

Slowly, she made her way threw the door and towards the bed. She lifted the sheets and crawled in. Her mind was blank, but her eyes were wide open. Then she turned over and blew out the candle on the bedside table.

Still, she remained awake. Processing the past thirty minutes was a lot more then she could take. And then one thought appeared in her head before she passed out:

_‘Why did his explanation sound like it came from muscle memory?’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5521 Words
> 
> Lightly edited, so please excuse errors.  
> BUT, besides this chapter, how am I doing?  
> Am I getting the personalities right? Is my righting okay? Is it too descriptive or not enough?  
> Be brutally honest, thank you.
> 
> Also, forwarding, while I was recovering he file, it became wonky. So some things may not be correctly formatted. So if you see random tabs in the front of lines, just ignore it. I'm just sick with this chapter. I liked it, just not the process.


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